


How to Become the Mayor of New York City Part 1

by astrapoetica



Series: How to Become the Mayor of New York City [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-09-16 14:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 57,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16955682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrapoetica/pseuds/astrapoetica
Summary: Matt receives a mystery package that will change the partnership of Nelson and Murdock forever.Takes place post Daredevil Season 3, some elements will be AU. Rating may go up in future chapters.





	1. Matt Finds Something Mysterious at His Door

“Seriously Matt, open up!” 

With his super sensitive hearing, Foggy knows that Matt has to have heard him banging on his door. Hell, he probably recognized him by the smell of his cologne or the sound of his breathing when he was still five blocks away or something ridiculous like that. But that doesn’t change the fact that he still hasn’t opened his door, even though he’s been standing out here for what feels like an eternity. 

Matt’s nosy next door neighbor has opened her door a crack and is resolutely glaring at him from under her hair curlers, her pink bathrobe wrapped protectively around herself. She seems to think if she stares at Foggy long enough that he’ll go away, but he’s not leaving until Matt opens this goddamn door, no matter how long… 

The door whips open with sudden force, and Foggy all but falls into Matt’s apartment, carried forward by the momentum of his knock. He stumbles and catches himself against Matt’s shoulder, righting himself and pulling away almost immediately, his pulse pounding at the unexpected contact. Whether Matt knows or has ever guessed that Foggy’s feelings for him aren’t entirely platonic is something that plagues him on those nights when he isn’t busy worrying about whether or not his friend is being murdered in a dark alley. 

Matt shuts the door as Foggy walks down the narrow corridor leading into the apartment. He looks around, but can determine nothing much out of the ordinary. No upended furniture, no broken glass, and Matt looks… well he looks relatively normal, all things considered. Foggy does a quick physical inventory: no broken limbs, no visible bruises or black eyes, no butterfly stitches, nothing bleeding that shouldn’t be… Maybe his hair a tad more askew than normal, and his face is lined with stress, but that’s pretty typical for Matt. 

Foggy fights back the irrational impulse to reach forward and smooth Matt’s hair back, his relief at finding his friend physically well rapidly shifting to anger and frustration. Sometimes he feels like he’s trapped in a play, acting out the same lines and movements again and again, as nothing ever changes. Him and Matt, just perpetually retreading the same ground, and no resolution in sight. Because Matt can’t stop being Daredevil, and Foggy can’t stop worrying about him. And so here they are, yet again, the Foggy and Matt Show. 

And like he always does, Foggy can’t help but recite his lines: “Where were you?” 

Matt groans, collapsing onto the couch. Exhaustion is etched onto his face, and Foggy notices that he hasn’t changed from the t-shirt and sweatpants that he typically wears to bed into regular clothes even though it’s nearly 2 in the afternoon.

“You had a client to meet with at noon, remember? Basically your only appointment of the day, Miss Orestes, about that break in she had last week?”

“The one that she thinks her neighbor is responsible for, yes, Foggy, I remember. She thinks they targeted her because of her age. And naturally the police investigation is going nowhere.” Matt is barely moving, just laying on the couch like this is some weird therapy session that he’s been forced into. 

“Then why weren’t you there?” 

“I…” he runs a hand over his face. “There were…” he seems to be struggling for words, finally settling on, “There were things.”

“Things?!” Foggy’s voice is incredulous, almost cracking at the end. He feels like his brain is seeping out, like his sanity is slowly abandoning him as he tries to comprehend the insane mystery of Matthew Michael Murdock.

“Complicated things! That were happening this morning.”

He sighs, turning away and pacing aimlessly before turning back to Matt, who still hasn’t moved. “You know what? Thing are always complicated, and I’m always understanding…”

He ignores the half muffled snort at that, and continues: “But if we’re really going to make another go at being partners, you’re going to have to make an effort! You can’t just not come to work. At least not without calling!”

“I’m sorry,” Matt says, sitting up. “Did Karen at least talk to her?”

“I talked to her Matt, in lieu of my lunch!” Foggy’s stomach chooses that moment to rumble as if underscoring his words. 

“Sorry,” he says again, and runs a hand through his hair and makes it stick up even more. “I’ll call in the future. I’ll call, I just…” 

“If you say ‘complicated things’ one more time so help me God, I will beat the holy hell out of you. I’ll find a way, Daredevil or not. Don’t tempt me.”

Matt opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something, but he’s cut off by a godawful wailing sound that progresses rapidly from a soft mewl to an outright scream. Foggy has plenty of extended family with small children, and he’s heard that particular sound too many times to count, but he can’t place it in the context of Matt and his apartment. 

“Is that…” he pauses, struggling for words in the face of the sheer absurdity of what he’s about to ask. “Is that a baby?”

“That,” comes the reply, “is the complicated thing that I was referring to earlier.”


	2. In Which There is a Letter, a Basket, and two BLT sandwiches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The origins of the baby are revealed, and Matt makes an important decision. Also, BLT sandwiches are made and enjoyed.

Pretty much all Foggy can do is stare.

The baby is still screaming, even though Matt has picked it up and is now carrying it around his bedroom and making vague shushing noises. The noises seem to have zero effect on the infant, who is red faced and howling like a banshee.

Foggy looks back down at the basket that the infant was nestled in. The basket itself had been shut away in Matt’s bedroom, which was why he hadn’t immediately noticed that there was a goddamn infant in Matt’s apartment. The basket is some sort of old-fashioned Moses-type affair, with wicker sides and two twin handles sticking up. The blankets themselves are a deep shade of crimson red with a black triangle pattern running in circular patterns around them.

“Was there a note?” he asks Matt when he finally regains his voice. “I mean, that’s what you do in situations like this, right? You leave a note?”

He figures it must be fairly difficult to hear him above the noise of the screaming child, but Matt just nods and gestures towards the small dresser next to his bed.

The note is written on thick tan paper with black words written in a flowing, cursive hand. There’s something aggressive about the lettering despite the cursive form. It’s all blocky with lengthy slashes down the page wherever there’s a “y” or a “g.”

_My darling Matthew,_

_I truly apologize for the shock you must currently be experiencing, both in realizing that I am indeed alive, and also in finding an unknown infant child abandoned on your doorstep at the ungodly hour of six a.m. I must assure you that the shock you are feeling is probably no less than the shock I myself experienced several months ago when I first realized that I was pregnant. At first, I believed the temporary halt to my monthly cycle was a consequence of my death and resurrection, but eventually I realized that it was due to a memorable interaction we had on a rooftop prior to the collapse of the building at Midland Circle. Perhaps you recall it as well? I sincerely hope that you do, as it was one of the most pleasant of such interactions that I recall us sharing in recent times._

_Unfortunately as is all too often the case in our lives, this momentary pleasure seems to have left a lasting consequence behind: Our daughter. I cannot say that I anticipated her birth with much enthusiasm, however I was surprised by how much I truly did love her when I first beheld her. (Perhaps it has something to do with those bewitching eyes). But even with the love that I feel in my heart, I find that I am ill-equipped to give her adequate care. Indeed, you know me as a woman of many faces, but it appears that being a mother in the traditional sense is not a role that I am suited to play, at least not at the present moment._

_But you, my lovely Matthew, you walk in both worlds, and not just the darker underworld which I call my home. I know in my heart that you will be able to give our daughter the loving and nurturing home that she deserves. Thus I entail her to your care, and provide for her such that I can, with a large endowment that is now attached to your bank account under the name I have given her: Ella._

_In closing, I must affirm my desire that you do not look for me, for I do not wish to be found at present. Perhaps in time we may be reunited by fate or destiny - after all, stranger things have been known to happen. Please do not think ill of me for my actions, I truly believe that these choices are for the best - for you, for me, and for our dear sweet Ella._

_Take care my darling._

_Ever yours,_

_~Elektra Natchios_

Foggy blinks slowly, re-reading the note over again, as if it’s going to make any more sense the second time around. He gives it a third go over and then gives up, looking up to see Matt pacing around the room with the baby. He's apparently trying to quiet her down, although his efforts are seeming to have the opposite effect, as the volume of her cries is only increasing.

A million questions and thoughts are racing through his mind: Isn’t Elektra dead and buried under Midland Circle? And yet somehow Matt survived, so it has to be possible that someone else could have as well. When did the two of them even have time to have sex anyhow? On a rooftop, and apparently they made the time. Why didn’t Matt mention it? Stupid question - when does Matt ever mention anything?

Lastly: who actually leaves a baby in a basket on someone’s doorstep? Elektra, apparently.

He doesn’t ask any of these questions out loud though, just keeps staring at Matt trying to ineffectually quiet down the baby. It’s hard to say who looks more awkward: Matt or the baby. He’s holding her all wrong, basically thrown over his shoulder like potatoes, and it’s clear that she doesn’t appreciate it.

Foggy sighs, a long, loud exhalation of breath as if his soul is trying to leave his body. And then he holds out his hands and gestures for Matt to pass the baby over to him.

 

\---

 

  
“Thank God for formula,” Foggy muses, tilting the bottle a bit more upright as the baby rapidly sucks it down, making happy gurgling noises as she drinks.

“You can thank me for remembering that she left some in the basket for us,” Matt replies, leaning back against the countertop in his kitchen. He looks exhausted and confused and slightly like he’s been hit by a car or possibly a train. Not that Foggy can say that he blames him.

He cradles Ella in the crook of his arm, expertly tilting the bottle to minimize the amount of air bubbles that she's taking in. She’s quite beautiful now that she’s quieted down, and she truly does have bewitching eyes. They are large and expressive, and their color is so dark that they almost seem black. Her face is still slightly blotchy and red from crying, and she has several tufts of dark curly hair sticking up at various angles that acutely mimic the current state of Matt's hair.

He can’t help but laugh at that, and Matt tilts his head in confusion. “I don’t see what there is to laugh about in this situation,” he grumbles.

“Her hair looks as ridiculous as yours does,” Foggy tells him, and Matt hurriedly runs a hand over his hair, trying in vain to press it flat.

Ella reaches a hand up, trying to fight him for the bottle, and he moves her hand away. She puts it back up again, curling her tiny fingers around his larger ones. Something in Foggy's heart seems to beat in double time before the loud rumbling of his stomach interrupts it. Matt’s face splits into an unexpected grin. “Sorry that you missed your lunch.”

“Well it’s not the first time and it probably won’t be the last. Especially not with you around, Murdock.”

“I have some bacon and lettuce, and possibly bread that isn’t mouldy. I could make a BLT and chips.” Matt rummages around in his fridge, coming up with the aforementioned items and tossing them onto the counter.

“I have never said no to a BLT in my life before, and I’m not about to start today,” Foggy replies, watching the baby drink down the last dregs of the bottle. “Do you have a dish towel?”

Matt throws one over to him as he pops the bacon onto a plate and heats it up in the microwave. His actions are oddly mundane given the strangeness of their situation, but it's somehow comforting to see him doing something normal in spite of everything.

“Okay, burping time.” Foggy puts the cloth over his shoulder and pats Ella on the back several times, producing a few loud burps and some spit up. He turns back around to see Matt pulling two beers out of the fridge as well, popping the cap off of one and downing a good chunk of it as rapidly as the baby sucked down her bottle.

“Do you ever have a moment,” he asks, assembling the sandwiches and taking the bacon out of the microwave, “Where you wonder: How is this my life?”

Foggy laughs, “I probably wonder that a lot less often than you do.”

Once the sandwiches are assembled, they both carry the plates and drinks into the living room, sitting down together on Matt’s battered couch. Matt makes no move to take Ella from him, so Foggy just holds her against his chest. She seems to be fascinated by his hair though, and keeps reaching her hands up towards it. A few years ago, she would have had plenty to grab onto, but now it's a bit too short for her to reach without a struggle. He looks around, but can't figure out where would be an appropriate place to put her. “I have no idea where to put this kid,” he says to Matt as he leans over to snag some chips.

“Back in the basket?”

“And what, send her back down the Nile? You’re going to have to get some baby stuff, Matt.”

Foggy props the baby up on his shoulder where she cuddles into his neck, breathing much louder than you would believe an infant could.

Matt props his feet up on the table, biting into his sandwich and chewing in lieu of a response, making his “serious thoughtful face” which looks a lot like his “majorly stressed out face” or his “I’m going to fight them” face.

“Seriously, this is non-negotiable,” Foggy reiterates. “Unless you have some other idea of what to do with this baby.”

He's quiet for a good long while before he says, “There’s always the church,” in a voice so low that at first Foggy almost isn't sure that he said it at all.

“You can’t be serious.”

Matt shrugs, leaning forward to try and grab his beer from the table. Foggy reaches forward and grabs his hand before he can get there.

“Tell me you aren’t serious,” he says, repeating himself.

He’s now awkwardly semi-holding his best friend’s hand, but he isn’t going to let Matt deflect this one by just getting drunk and saying nothing. “I grew up there,” he says defensively.

“You didn’t have…” Foggy pauses, realizing that what he was about to say isn’t entirely true in light of what they've recently learned about Maggie.

Matt laughs but there’s no humor in it, only darkness. “Yeah, I did have a mother, Foggy. And she abandoned me. Seems to run in the family, doesn’t it?”

He tries to pull away, but Foggy holds fast to his hand. “Then don’t do it this time, Matt. You can be her family.”

“What do I know about raising a child? I’m a vigilante, not a…. Not a….”

“A what?”

Matt does pull away then, standing up and walking aimlessly towards the brick wall and the stairs leading out to the roof. He turns back to Foggy when he says: “Not suited for this.”

“Well unfortunately for all of us, that doesn’t matter anymore.” Foggy stands up, cradling Ella on his shoulder. “She’s a human being, and you helped create her. So now we’re going to take care of her, we can figure this out.”

Matt frowns, “We?”

A shrug, “Yeah, we. I can help. Heck, so can Karen.”

His friend snorts derisively, turning around again so that Foggy can’t see his face. He walks over to him, standing close enough that he can't be ignored. He means business, and he hopes that his friend knows it. “Listen to me, Matt, we can do this. Like everything else, we’ll do it together.”

“It’s a lot to ask.”

“You aren’t asking, I’m offering. And, you know, pre-offering on Karen’s behalf.”

Matt laughs, “Yeah, I’m sure she’s going to love that.”

Foggy shifts Ella to his hands, holding her out to the other man. After a moment’s hesitation, Matt reaches out and takes her from Foggy, trying to shift her to lay against his chest. She goes peaceably for about ten seconds, and then lets out a long, thin wail.

“Welcome to fatherhood,” Foggy says, grinning and going back to finish his sandwich and chips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s Note: So Chapter Two is up, and I fixed some formatting issues with the way that chapters were displaying. Hope y’all enjoy it, let me know what you think!


	3. Karen Gets a Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's just another Friday at the office for Karen Page before she gets a very unsettling phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter, but tomorrow’s update is already done and it’s going to be longer as we jump to Matt’s POV. Let me know what y’all think below!

“I’m sorry, Matt has a what?”

Karen has the office phone pushed so hard against her ear that it’s starting to hurt, but that doesn’t make the words that Foggy is communicating to her any more coherent. It’s 8:30 a.m. on a Friday morning, and neither Nelson nor Murdock has bothered to show up thus far, leaving her with a waiting room that is half full of clients and potential clients who are staring at her as if she can magically make Foggy and Matt appear like some sort of hat trick.

So Karen had taken the only sensible route out of the madness and barricaded herself in the tiny room that they use for more private client conferences, and dialed Foggy’s phone number over and over again until he finally answered. She left her cell phone in her coat pocket up front, so now she’s stuck talking on their ancient office phone, which was probably new in the 1980’s. It’s enormous and clunky, and the cord only goes about three feet. There's also some sort of clicking noise that it likes to make every so often, which makes it even more difficult to discern what the person on the other end is saying.

“He has a baby, Karen!” Foggy all but hollers into the phone.

Karen’s heart feels like it’s in her throat, and she barely chokes out: “But why?”

After all, who in their right mind would trust Matt Murdock with a baby? He doesn’t have any other family that she knows of, which must mean…

“Because it’s his.”

“But…” her voice trails off as she feels the blood rushing through her body, and the sudden pulse of what feels like a migraine beginning to form right between her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“Elektra, she…” Foggy pauses, and Karen can vaguely hear rustling on the other end as if he’s juggling something, and the phone is pushing up against his collar. “She left a baby on Matt’s doorstep yesterday morning, and apparently it’s his. Well theirs really, but she isn’t interested in raising her. That’s why he wasn’t in yesterday.”

“He could have called the office… you could have called the office! I have a waiting room full of people out there, and neither of you is here!” And yes, there it is, a migraine springing into full flare with a pulsating throb in her temple as its accomplice. She rubs her forehead absently, trying in vain to stay calm.

Her day had started off on such a positive note. When she woke up she felt good, so good that she put on her new green cardigan and a matching striped dress that she felt perfectly said “two weeks to Christmas and feeling festive.” She even put on a pair of cute lightbulb earrings that had been an impulse purchase at a vintage store a few days ago. She doesn’t typically wear earrings, let alone something as ostentatious as red and green light bulbs. But they had looked so good with the dress that she just hadn’t been able to resist.

So this morning she put them on along with her new dress, and left the house feeling pretty optimistic. She had been running early, and she had stopped for coffee, getting in and out of the shop in record time. In fact, everything had been perfect until…

“And where is Matt now?” she asks, and even she can hear the chill in her voice.

“At his place, which I am trying to get back to with this… ouch!” More rustling, the sound of keys, and something crinkly that sounds like plastic bags. Groceries? “There was only so much formula in the bag, so I had to get more. Plus there’s no food at his place, naturally, because he’s never there. So I had to run out this morning…”

“Run out this morning?”

“Yeah, I stayed overnight.”

“You what?” Coffee, she is definitely going to need more coffee. And soon.

“Well who else was going to help him?” Foggy’s voice sounds exasperated, and she can hear him huffing away as he climbs the steps up to Matt’s apartment. “What do you think Matt Murdock knows about babies anyway?”

She laughs, putting a hand on her hip and looking out of the window at the street below. A few lone snowflakes are falling, and she can see someone dressed as Santa ringing a bell and collecting change for charity a few blocks over. “Nothing whatsoever.”

“I told him that we would help him.”

“You told him what!” Her voice comes out in an indignant yell that she truly hopes the people in the outer office can’t hear.

“What else was I going to do, Karen? There’s no alternative.”

She takes in a deep breath of air, reminding herself to try and remain calm, but it feels like there’s water in her lungs, like she’s being slowly suffocated. _Focus on work,_ she thinks to herself, _just take one step at a time_.

“So are either of you coming into the office today?”

There’s a long, long silence on the other end.

“I’m going to take that as a no.”

“I think we’re going to have to go full triage on this one, Karen.” There’s the jingling of keys again, and a door opening and closing. Suddenly she can hear the sound of a baby crying, and it’s as if suddenly she realizes that all of this is actually happening. Her legs fall out from under her, and she manages to land on the couch in the corner of the room, almost pulling the phone off the desk when she plops down.

The couch itself is large and brown and insanely squishy, and they poached it from an office two floors down that was renovating. Shortly thereafter Foggy had dubbed it “the hairy Buffalo.” Therefore sleeping on it was known as “riding the buffalo.” i.e. “Matt sure is having a rough time lately, I saw him riding the buffalo three times this week.”

She can hear Matt’s voice, dim and far away saying: “Thank God you’re back, I was going out of my mind.”

“From the sound of it so was she,” Foggy laughs. “Here I’ll trade you.”

“Wait what - ”

Matt is cut off as some sort of swap occurs, and the sound of the baby recedes. There’s another long silence, and then: “Hello, Karen.”

For some reason she can’t identify, she feels like crying. She bites back the tears that are threatening to overwhelm her. “Hi, Matt.”

“So Foggy told you…”

“Everything.”

The lone snowflakes are turning into a dozen and then a dozen more, and white wetness is now falling from the sky in flurries. Outside, the regular world goes on, but inside of the office, Karen can’t help but feel as if nothing will ever be the same.

 _Just focus on work,_ she tells herself again, repeating the phrase in her mind and ignoring how very much this internal voice sounds like her mother. _Focus on what you can handle, and everything else will sort itself out._

“I’m really sorry, Karen," Matt says, and then he stops speaking, as if can't figure out what else to say.

She stands up, smooths out her dress, and when she replies her voice is calm. “I’m going to triage our clients, handle what can’t be put off myself, and refer everyone else back to us sometime next week. We don’t have anything going to court until after the New Year, so we should be fine on that end.”

“Thank you.”

She swallows, takes another steadying breath. “Goodbye, Matt.” And she hangs up without waiting for a response, setting the phone firmly back in the cradle. She walks back out to the office to take care of their clients, shoving everything else, including her emotions, to the back of her mind.

One step at a time, she tells herself, one step at a time.


	4. Foggy and Matt go to the Baby Warehouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy and Matt take a trip to the Baby Warehouse, where they are mistaken for a couple with a newborn (because who wouldn't make that assumption??).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we've heard from Foggy and Karen, thus I figured it's time for a chapter from Matt's perspective. Enjoy and let me know what you think below!

It still hurts.

Somewhere deep down in the cavity of Matt’s chest it lingers, a great burning pain that he thought was dead and buried a long time ago.

After the collapse of the building at Midland Circle and throughout his recuperation at Saint Agnes, Elektra had constantly been in his thoughts as he wondered where she was, and if she had somehow managed to survive. Feverishly, he had even wondered if she was the reason that he survived the explosion, perhaps she had saved him and then left him for that cab driver to find.

Now he finds those same thoughts once again echoing back to him, word for word: _Elektra... Where did you go, Elektra?_

He thought that he had accepted that she was gone, possibly for good this time. In the past year or so, he had adopted a semi-regular routine: lawyer by day, Daredevil by night. Along with Foggy and Karen, he had been rebuilding their law firm, locating new clients and even revisiting some old ones. And with Fisk off the streets and safely behind bars, he hasn’t had to face anything more challenging than regular criminals for a good long while. Sometimes chasing down criminals like Turk can get old, and it isn't a particularly good test of his skills. But he far prefers the monotonous routine of putting the same criminals behind bars month after month over the reign of terror that Fisk had created while he was free...

Distantly Matt can hear Foggy rattling around in his kitchen, banging some pots and pans together and grumbling to himself. Ella has quieted down now that Foggy is back, holding her in his arms and making her a bottle with the ease of someone well-versed in early childcare due to the proximity of multiple cousins and their brood of children. She definitely seems to favor him, and Matt isn’t quite sure that he blames her. It’s quite clear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Possibly Elektra had hired a nurse or a nanny to help her when Ella was born. Or perhaps, he thinks with a laugh, perhaps she hired a whole fleet of people to assist her. He wishes that she had left them behind, or at least the phone number of someone familiar with their situation. Although now that he's considering it, the money left in the endowment might be enough for him to hire someone, or even to put Ella in some sort of private daycare.

But how could he ever truly trust someone to look after her? And what if they somehow learned about his other life? He shudders as thoughts of being investigated not only by the police, but also by CPS, invade his mind. From his dealings with them through the legal system, he almost fears CPS more. He sighs, leaning against the bathroom sink so that his forehead brushes up against the cold glass of the mirror on the front of the medicine cabinet. The chill of it is calming, and it helps ground him even though it feels like the world is spinning off of its axis.

He isn’t sure that keeping the child is the right decision. Apart from practical concerns like daycare and feeding routines, there’s also the issue of physical safety. In the few years that he’s been Daredevil, he’s made no small number of enemies. And even though Fisk is the only one who is currently aware of his secret identity, that could always change in the future. Fisk could talk, or he could be forced to talk. Hell, Mahoney could get drunk and tell his mother. Or any one of the Defenders could also become compromised somehow, by a villain or even by the police. And then what would happen to his daughter? She would be the perfect sort of leverage to use against him, and ultimately she would suffer the most as a result of Matt's actions, not him. That just doesn't seem fair, but abandoning her to someone else's care or the foster system doesn't seem like the right choice either.

There’s simply no way for him to just take it all back now. The genie is out of the bottle, and there's no putting it back in. This is part of why he had never planned on having a "normal life." Marriage, children, a house? It all seemed as unlikely as an asteroid hitting the earth. Because he knows in the back of his mind that someday, somehow, someone will likely find out about his identity. And when they do, the people around him are going to pay the price. And if he takes Ella into his life, there's no telling what kind of negative impact it might have on her…

These thoughts are circular and lead nowhere, but they keep swimming around in his brain, inescapable and tormenting.

 _Who are you kidding, your other life is over now,_ a dark voice whispers from inside of his mind. _You'll never get to go back to being Daredevil now, not with an infant in your life and no one else around to help care for her._

 _It’s a part of me,_ he whispers back to it. _It’s a part of me, and I can’t just let it go. God knows I’ve tried. And even if I stop, that wouldn't prevent someone from discovering my past, so quitting might not be a viable solution at all. At least if I have my ears to the ground I might see something coming before it's too late…_

A horrible, awful thought occurs to him then, that Fisk could still someday walk free. And even with the promise he has from him, and even with the threat of harming Vanessa hanging over his head, Fisk might still be tempted to do something unthinkable…

He wants to slam his fist into the glass of the mirror and break it. He can see it happening in his mind's eye, can so easily imagine how it would feel, the slam and the break, the pain of glass in his hand, bleeding all over the bathroom rug like a wild thing, the adrenaline rush of it all. He breathes deeply, trying to control himself, trying to not totally lose what little sanity he feels that he has left.

“Hey, asshole.” Foggy’s voice almost makes him jump, it's so close to him. He must be standing right in the doorway, and Matt was so distracted that he didn’t even notice him approaching.

 _Sloppy Murdock, super sloppy,_ says a voice inside of him that sounds eerily akin to Stick.

“Why don’t you come to the living room, and I’m going to show you how to feed your daughter a bottle the right way.” He can hear Foggy's heart beating, slow and calm, and it's soothing to him. He can also smell that when he showered earlier this morning, he used Matt's soap and shampoo.

“She likes you better,” he can't help but remark.

 _What a petty thing to say,_ his inner voice whispers.  _Why do you always have to be such a smart ass?_

 _Shut up,_ he whispers back, fervently trying to shut the demonic whisper down.

“Well that’s too bad, because she’s your daughter, and eventually I’m going to have to go home.”

He can't argue with that logic.  “Yeah, I’m guessing that Marci is wondering where you are."

A double patter of Foggy’s heart - a secret of some kind, but he doesn't know what it is. “I told her I had to stay over, but I didn’t tell her what was going on.” He’s definitely lying, but Matt decides that now isn’t the right time press his luck. He needs his friend right now, perhaps more than he's ever needed him before. He honestly isn't sure what he would do with himself if Foggy just decided to walk out right now.

“So stop being a diva and hiding in the bathroom.” Foggy grunts a bit as he shifts Ella from one arm to the other. “You have to come out and face the music.”

He walks away mumbling something under his breath about how: _You can’t even see yourself in a mirror, why do you need to spend so much time in the bathroom?_   And _What in the hell Matt, stop being so ridiculous, it’s time for grilled cheese sandwiches. Also, why is this baby so heavy, we need to get a high chair._

After heaving a long and dramatic sigh, Matt follows Foggy into the living room.

 

\---

 

After Foggy laboriously shows Matt how to properly feed Ella, and after much fussing on the baby’s part when they try to squeeze her into a jacket and hat to protect her from the cold, and after Foggy makes them both grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, then, finally, it's time to take an Uber to the closest place that sells baby goods. Ironically and strangely, the place is called the Baby Warehouse. And it definitely lives up to the name, with a dizzying amount of floors and available products to choose from.

“Why are there so many different baby carriers to choose from?” Foggy grumbles. They’re facing what literally seems to be a wall of them from what Matt can tell, and Foggy is grouchily comparing prices and trying to figure out what exactly the various features on each one are supposed to do. They seem fairly identical from what Matt can discern, running his fingers over them one by one, and he figures he'll let Foggy handle the financial end of it. From what Elektra said in her letter, it doesn't seem like money is going to be a problem, which is at least one thing that he doesn't have to be worried about.

They agreed that they needed to buy a carrier first based on the argument that they had with the Uber driver when she showed up to get them and realized that Ella didn’t have a proper seat to ride in. She almost seemed to think that Foggy and Matt were baby kidnappers, demanding to know exactly why a child that appears to be upwards of four months old wouldn’t have a car seat if Matt was really her father.

“What are you expecting me to believe,” she demanded, “that this child just fell from the sky?”

“Pretty much,” Matt had muttered under his breath, much too low for her to hear. 

They probably could have taken the basket with them, but that probably would have looked even stranger than Matt just carrying Ella around. After all, how often do you see a baby in a wicker basket outside of a classic movie like  _The_ _Wizard of Oz?_  

Luckily for the both of them, there’s a sales associate approaching them who might be able to help sort out the baby carrier confusion. Matt can hear the steady tap, tap, tap of her shoes on the floor, and the jangling of metallic earrings. He isn't sure who wears high heels to work in retail these days, but she seems to be young from what he can tell, with a healthy heartbeat and the smell of pineapple and mango body spray clinging to her. It's the sort of thing that Matt finds utterly repellent, but that doesn't seem to bother other people. Her heart rate goes up as she approaches them, almost sounding like excitement, or maybe it's just the stress of the holiday season.  

“Hi there, I'm Mirissa! Can I help you two with something?” she asks, voice high pitched and utterly too perky for Matt’s comfort level. Between the perfume and her voice, he finds her grating already, but they really do need some sort of assistance. 

“Yesss, thank you,” Foggy groans, apparently more than grateful for any kind of help. “We need to buy a baby carrier. And possibly some other things as well.”

“Oh, well what kind of carrier would you like?” the girl chirps back. She’s looking at Matt and Ella in his arms, and he can tell through his senses that she's waving at the baby, because she's sending up a small sweet smelling cloud as she moves. "How cute is she? I just love that little jacket that she has on, hello cutie!" 

“Just a simple carrier would be wonderful,” Matt says emphatically, cutting her off.

“Oookay,” the clerk replies, clearly taken aback by his less-than-enthusiastic attitude. “Well, my best recommendation to you would be to get one of these three snap models, with the carrier that attaches to the stroller. The stroller itself is totally collapsible, it’s sooo easy to attach it and then you just put in your car or the taxi or whatever, here let me show you...”

Oh good God, a stroller. How many things were they going to need? And how in the name of…

“And it all comes with free shipping to wherever you live in the city!” the girl chirps. “And you know, it grows with the baby, so you can get the next size up carrier, and all of it fits the same model. It’s totally compatible with the toddler size too. And just think, if you have another one, you can just reuse the older sizes for the newest arrival!”

Matt is starting to feel a bit queasy, but the clerk doesn’t seem to notice, just keeps chattering away. Foggy seems to keep up with her pretty well, taking her recommendation to download their app on his phone to get some discount coupons to use at checkout. Apparently there's some sort of system here where you can just scan the items that you want, and then have the heavier ones delivered directly to you rather than trying to haul them all home at once. 

 _The weekend is upcoming,_ she tells them, and it's as if he can hear her voice, but it's just fading out as adrenaline and stress spikes through him, _so_ _th_ _ere might be a bit of a delay, but if you hurry there’s the chance that some things could arrive on Saturday. And oh, did you need some recommendations on a crib as well? This one is current with the new safety ratings, you really do have to watch out for SIDS you know, and what about food and diapers, I would tell you to go organic, but the price can be a bit much for some people…_

“Matt, earth to Matt!”

“Hm?”

He turns, and even though he can't see him, he can tell that Foggy is frowning at him by the tone of his voice. He feels like they’ve been in the store for hours at this point, and the cart they picked up is full to bursting with the food and diapers and various other supplies that the clerk had highly recommended that they purchase - baby bottles with the proper nipple size, and toe nail clippers, and ten million other odds and ends that he can't seem to keep track of. Matt can’t help but wonder if Elektra had all of these things herself, and if so why she didn’t just send them along with the baby when she dropped her off. It's not like she couldn't have paid for the shipping. 

Most of the time that they've been in the store, Foggy has been pushing the cart along, and Matt has been following him with Ella safely in his arms. Luckily she hasn't been too fussy thus far. He wonders if maybe she finds the store as overwhelming as he does. Unfortunately he forgot the walking cane that he normally uses, so he’s just been keeping one arm on the left side of the cart while Foggy wheels them along, deftly guiding them around major obstacles and other shoppers. Matt is also wearing his red glasses, which seems to indicate to most people that they should give him some room.

The store itself seems full to bursting, which shouldn’t be surprising given that it’s barely two weeks before Christmas. But it's a bit overwhelming for Matt, who finds the constant assault of new smells and loud sounds a strain on his senses to say the least. Mostly he's just concentrating on not panicking, but he's reaching the end of his endurance rather rapidly.

“Are you doing okay?” The cart has now come to a total halt, and Foggy is standing close to him, taking his elbow as if to ground him. 

It does work a bit, and he concentrates on the smell of Foggy, the sound of his breathing, until his heart rate calms down a bit. “Yeah, I’m just...." he searches for words but can find none. “I'm just tired,” he finishes lamely.

“I hate to say this, but we should probably pick out some sort of clothes for her too,” Foggy suggests gently. "Then I think we'll be done."

Matt groans, “Yet another thing that I’m sure to be great at doing. Wonderful." Ella fidgets a bit, and he hopes that she doesn't wake up until they're at least in an Uber headed back home. But she starts shifting and kicking her legs, and he can hear her breathing change as she comes awake with a jerk, abruptly trying to put her head up to look around at all the people who are making noise and interrupting her sleep schedule. She can't quite control her body yet though, so Matt does his best to prop her up on his shoulder so that she can see as they start moving again. He changes his grip from the cart to Foggy's elbow, holding on loosely so that Foggy can still steer the cart.

“You know, we probably could have gotten some things from my cousins now that I think about it." Foggy keeps up a steady stream of chatter to Matt and Ella, probably trying to keep Matt calm because they have to ride the elevator up yet another floor, and there’s a crush of people riding upwards, including a few screaming and crying children. He can’t help but wince at their loud shrieks. Ella doesn’t seems like she hasn’t quite developed that kind of vocal range yet, and for that Matt is infinitely grateful. "Some of their kids are just going into kindergarten, it probably would have been perfect timing to ask them now. I know that Kristie had to have this one specific stroller, and that it cost so much money that everyone at her shower had to pitch in just to try and afford it..."

They finally step out of the elevator, fresh air rushing around them. Matt breaths it in like he hasn't had access to air in years.

“Hey,” Foggy says cheerfully, “maybe we could have a baby shower for you, and people would give you stuff for free!”

“I really hope you aren’t serious,” Matt replies, grateful that he can sense a cart coming closer to them, as an elderly woman who isn’t paying attention nearly walks right into them. He squeezes in tighter to Foggy, shifting Ella so that she's on the other side of his shoulder, and more protected from oncoming traffic.

“Why not, Matt? It’s free stuff. Free stuff!” He repeats it again, as if Matt just isn’t properly understanding the lure of people giving you things with no expectation of anything coming to them in return.

“No baby shower, Fog.” The cart comes to a halt, and Foggy starts looking through a rack of clothes, the squeak, squeak of the wire hangers going as he flips through them rapidly. “Promise me, okay?”

“You are such a spoilsport, Murdock. Oh look! This one has the cutest bow, we’re getting this one.” Foggy throws the outfit into the cart on top of the pile of items already in there. “Why are girl clothes so much cuter than boy clothes, this is outrageous. We’re being scammed, I’m telling you. It's a total travesty.”

Matt rarely thinks about his clothes because he can't see them, so he doesn't have much to say in reply, and just stays quiet as Foggy continues to look through the clothes.

“Oh, what a cute little baby!” Matt turns as a middle aged woman with two children in tow invades his personal space to look at Ella. He can smell the hair spray she’s used on her hair that morning, and stale coffee on her breath. Her two children, tugged along by each one of her hands, stumble to a stop as she leans in. One of them is sniffling and obviously stuffed up with a cold, and Matt instantly wants to lean back to prevent their germs from making contact with him and Ella.

“Is that a boy or a girl?” she asks, cooing at the baby.

“She’s a girl,” Foggy says, coming over and trying to insert himself between Matt and the woman, as if he can sense his friend’s discomfort.

“Awww,” the woman coos, “a sweet little baby girl. They’re the best. And what an adorable couple!”

Matt can feel his face starting to turn red. The woman obviously assumes that her and Foggy are her parents, and he opens his mouth to correct her, but she’s still talking with no breath taken for a pause. He realizes now that based on some of her comments, the clerk that they were working with earlier had also assumed the same thing about him and Foggy.

“What a lucky little girl to have two handsome daddies! And a first Christmas, ah, it’s all so special. I remember that stage, it was sooo magical! Are you taking pictures with Santa Claus today? He's up on the top floor! But you have to pick out a special outfit for that, I imagine. Only two more weeks to do it!”

One of her children starts howling at that, something about a transforming robot toy and Santa, and she’s gone as quickly as she appeared, tugging her children behind her.

“Well that was like being hit by a tornado,” Foggy says once she’s gone. “I don't know about you, but I'm exhausted. Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Do we have everything we need?” Matt asks. He’s listening to Foggy’s heart again - it picked up at an abnormal pace when the woman was talking about them being a couple, and he notices that Foggy has turned to the cart and studiously put his back to him. Even though he can’t see his face, Foggy still reflexively tries to hide his expressions from Matt when he’s trying to keep him in the dark about something. He supposes it's just an ingrained habit, one that Foggy must have acquired ages ago and can't quite kick. 

“Who cares, we can always just order online. We have most of what we need, like food and diapers, and the carrier can come with us today for the Uber. The crib and all that other heavy stuff I put on order for one day delivery tomorrow to your place. Hope you like paying a fortune for shipping!"

And with that, Foggy starts off so suddenly that Matt doesn’t have time to grab onto the cart, reaching out and grabbing the back of his friend's shirt instead. It isn't typical of him to just abandon Matt like that, and he's started sweating too. Matt isn’t quite sure what's made him so jittery, apart from what that woman said about them being a couple. From what Matt can tell Foggy isn’t the least bit homophobic, so why was he bothered by her implication? Almost anyone seeing them together might have thought the same thing if they didn't know better.

He wants to ask about it, but Foggy keeps up a constant stream of inane chatter the entire time that they’re standing in line waiting to check out, and then when the Uber shows up he talks to the driver about some new television show and totally ignores Matt like he isn't there at all. Once they get to the apartment he's wrapped up in Ella, showing Matt how to change her, giving her another bottle, and then finally putting her down to sleep. They place her in the basket because they don't have any other options. 

Afterwards they settle in front of the television, and before Matt can find a way to casually raise the issue, he hears the soft sound of Foggy’s breathing shifting from steady to slow. He realizes then that his friend is dead asleep on his couch, even though he’s still sitting upright. Matt isn’t much for television for fairly obvious reasons, so he mutes the sound and lays back next to Foggy, also falling asleep within minutes. He wakes up hours later to a dark apartment, cold because he hasn’t turned the radiator up, and he realizes that Foggy is gone.


	5. Sunday Means Breakfast in the Nelson Household

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt tracks Foggy down at his parent's apartment, and a very serious conversation ensues. Also, Anna loves the baby, and Ed is very grumpy at having his morning newspaper time interrupted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How in the hell did this chapter grow so long? I have no idea, but hopefully y'all enjoy it! I'm going to try to incorporate some things that I've learned about Foggy's family recently, but I might get things wrong, so please forgive me if I do. The personality of Anna and Ed is very much just based on my own weird imaginings about the Nelson family.
> 
> Also, if you want to see Ella's bear suit, check out this link: http://themetapicture.com/cutest-rawr-ever/

Foggy’s childhood bedroom is like a time machine. Tiny and cramped, the one bedroom that he and Theo once shared is dominated almost entirely by an enormous bunk bed set. Foggy always slept on the bottom bunk and Theo up top, often stepping on Foggy in his rush to get down when he was late for school, or if he was feeling particularly obnoxious that day.

A thin fine layer of dust has settled on almost everything, and Foggy isn’t sure why his stepmother, Anna, hasn’t just cleared this whole room out and sent everything to Good Will. He moved out when he started undergrad, and Theo moved out once he started getting a steady paycheck and needed an apartment to take girls back to after dates. So neither one of them has been back in years, not since his law school years for sure, when he sometimes stayed here with Matt while the dorms were closed. By all rights, she should have packed it up by now, especially since his parents keep talking about moving to Tampa, and downsizing when they do. But thus far, no one has moved to Florida, and Theo continues to live in his tiny apartment nearby, and his parents continue to live in the apartment over the shop.

_Maybe they kept it like this in case I failed out of law school and had to come home,_ he thinks to himself. He realizes he should probably get up, that he probably shouldn’t just lay here in the dim darkness of an early Sunday morning and wallow in his own misery. He mentally orders himself to get up, to go to the bathroom and at least wash his face off, but he can’t seem to make his limbs move. He feels too warm and comfortable, perfectly wrapped up in blankets like some sort of demented burrito. He’s still wearing the same shirt and boxers that he was wearing under his suit and shirt on Friday when he went shopping with Matt, although that feels like a lifetime ago now. He spent his whole Saturday laying around in his old room and avoiding the anxious stares of Anna and his father, the same stares that they’ve been wearing since last weekend when he showed up looking for a place to crash for a few days.

Marci had always insisted that the apartment was their place and not just hers after he moved in. But the honest truth of it is that when you move into someone else’s apartment it somehow remains, in some intangible way, irrevocably theirs. Like they've imprinted on it, and you're just a guest in their space, no matter how long you stay there. The best way to do it is to buy something new together, but Foggy hadn't had much in the way of money when they decided to start living together, and Marci's place had been so nice that they just sort of slid into the decision to move in there without Foggy thinking too much about what it might mean for their future.

He still can't quite put his finger on why their relationship isn’t working out. On the surface level they have a lot of things in common, and the sex is generally great. It's not as if they're a couple that has dramatic fights. They don't scream at each in the street or have loud disagreements in the cereal aisle at the grocery store. But underneath it all is some sort of lingering doubt in his mind that nothing about them is quite _right_ either. And that doubt has grown from a tiny seed of worry in his brain to a full blown creeping vine of doubt as time has gone on, and that doubt has eaten away at the foundation of their relationship, leaving both of them floundering and wondering just what exactly is going wrong between them.

He's begun to realize that sometimes there's a difference between loving someone and being in love with them, and that maybe him and Marci fall into that former category of relationships. So last weekend he packed up some of his things, said that he would send for everything else later, and walked out, really without too much discussion. He thinks that the lack of angry words was due to Marci's shock at the abrupt end of it all, and that most likely he’ll be hearing a lot more from her fairly soon.

Ultimately, he just thinks that Marci deserves someone better. Not in obvious terms that people often think of, not someone who makes more money or has better looks or more personality (because honestly who has more personality than Foggy?). No, what she deserves is someone who will choose her. Someone who will put her first each and every single time, for the rest of their life. Someone who will love her right, who will make her a priority. Foggy's number one priority was decided upon years ago, ages before he met Marci, when Matt walked through that dorm room door and Foggy first laid eyes on him.

Because what it comes down to in the end is the question of whether or not it's fair to stay with someone who you love well enough to keep going, but not well enough to truly commit to. Someone who you know you would walk out on if someone else in your life were to suddenly look up and see you in a different light. And he just can't do that, he can't continue to be that person. So even if Matt never does look at him differently, and even if he never finds a more true love in his life, at least Marci might have a chance at it.

Ugh, what dark thoughts. He finally manages to sit up, but he doesn’t make it much farther than that, just props himself up against the wall on the lower bunk and watches the dust motes floating around.

Much as he tries not to think about it, he still finds himself wondering what Matt is doing right now. Usually on Sundays he goes to church in the morning, but how would he explain Ella? Would he just take her with him? What is he going to say to Maggie anyway, and what is she going to say back?

And he still has no idea what’s going to happen tomorrow. It’s not like Matt's found a daycare or a nanny yet, so Ella is probably going to have to be taken to the office, which is going to lead to all sorts of weird questions. And Karen, poor Karen. Foggy knows how much she cares about Matt, even after the failure of their stalled relationship. (Although some of the arguments he’s had with her about Frank Castle make him question how much she might have hidden feelings in another direction entirely.)

“Franklin Nelson, are you going to sleep all day!” Anna’s voice is loud enough to wake the dead, shrill and clear like a ringing bell.

Foggy can’t help but roll his eyes, throwing the covers over his head and trying to burrow back into the bed. Moments later, he hears Anna’s feet approaching down the hallway, and she opens the door to stare at him. He would lay good money down that she’s glaring at him, although he can’t see her from under the covers.

“It’s nearly noon, alright.” She grabs the covers and throws them back, causing more dust to rise up as the air hits them. Her brown curls which are shot through with gray and white streaks hang around her head like a halo. “It’s time to get up.” She coughs a bit, waving her hand around to disperse the dust. “And you might want to think about dusting this room if you intend to stay any longer. Maybe sort through some things so that we can donate them. We're moving to Tampa soon, you know.”

“Sure,” Foggy says, giving in to the inevitable. He stretches a bit in the bed, getting ready to get up. Now that the door is open he can smell cooked bacon and possibly pancakes.

Anna is still staring down at him, hands on her hips.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me your friend had a baby, Franklin? We would have given him a gift. It’s not right to not know these things.”

He sits upright immediately, feet swinging out of the bed and hitting the cold floor with a thump. “How did you…” He hastily pulls on a pair of blue and black checkered pajama pants, stumbling out of the door and nearly tripping over the carpet.

“He’s here right now, in the kitchen. He said that he wanted to make sure you were okay when he realized you weren’t at Marci’s anymore.” Anna's voice follows him down the hallway, as he wonders if somehow he fell back asleep and is now in the middle of a dream.

But sure enough there’s Matt, sitting at the kitchen table with his father like he belongs there, hair neatly combed and wearing a suit. He’s wearing his red glasses, and his expression is carefully neutral as Foggy approaches. He gives him a small smile, but it’s a practiced one, not a true Matt-smile.

Foggy can’t help but run a hand through his hair, still fairly short but growing out a bit again. He feels rumpled and gross, and he wishes he would have changed into actual clothes before just charging right out into the kitchen in his pajamas.

“Morning, Foggy,” Matt says, voice overly casual. It’s the voice he uses in court trials and client meetings, and for some reason it sets Foggy’s teeth on edge.

“Morning,” he replies as he father slams down the paper on the table, startling all of them.

“Goddamn baseball teams have no idea what they’re doing anymore,” Ed grumbles, picking up his coffee cup. His cloud of white hair is uncombed and sticking up at strange angles. “Losing perfectly good players before spring training, how in the hell are we supposed to win any games without Rodriguez anymore, I’d like to know…”

“Now, Ed, calm down you’ll startle the baby.” Anna peers down into the baby carrier, which is propped up on a chair next to Matt. Ella is safely snuggled into the carrier that the clerk had recommended, and the pattern that Foggy had picked out which features jungle animals in pastel shades. She has a fleece covering over her, and she's dressed in a cute brown snowsuit that makes her look like a little sleeping bear.

“The child is fine, Anna, stop fussing over her,” Ed retorts, picking up his paper again and returning to the sports section.

“Look how tiny she is,” Anna goes on, completely undeterred. “How old is she?”

Matt tilts his head in Foggy’s direction as if indicating that he's going to follow his lead on this one. Foggy clears his throat, and decides in that moment that the closer they can stick to the truth of the whole affair, the better things will be for everyone in the long run. “We aren’t really sure,” he says honestly.

“What in the hell do you mean, you aren’t sure?” Ed tosses the paper aside, as if giving up on the possibility of reading it with all the commotion that's going on.

“She uh... that is her mother, she left her with me a few days ago. I didn’t know about her before then.” Matt laughs, picking up the coffee mug that Anna probably put together for him, obviously trying to maintain his facade of being casual about this whole clusterfuck of a situation. “So we aren’t entirely sure how old she is. Four or five months is our best guess. It’s been uh… a bit of an adjustment.”

“Oh my, what an awful situation to happen to such a little angel,” Anna clucks, her gaze darting nervously to Foggy, who shoots her a glare in return. He wants to shake his head fervently at her to try to and warn her off from whatever she might have been about to say about Foggy’s own situation and his birth mother. But he knows that doing so would be a dead give away to Matt that he’s trying to hide something, so he settles for glaring at his stepmother in the hopes that she'll take the hint for what it is.

She shoots him a look back that clearly says “we’re going to talk about this later, Franklin,” but she turns her attention back to the baby, who is stirring in her carrier, clearly awakened by all the loud conversation. She blinks and stares up at the strangers (and relative strangers) who are all staring down at her in her return. And even though she's supposedly too young for proper expressions, Foggy can still swear that she frowns at them all dubiously.

“Can I hold her?” Foggy’s stepmother asks, clearly anxious to pick her up.

“Sure,” Matt says, starting to get up.

But Anna gestures at him to sit back down, then, realizing he can’t see her, she adds, “No need to get up, I have it.”

And she leans over, unbuckling Ella with ease and picking her up. The baby makes a sleepy sound, and Anna carries her around the kitchen, making weird noises at her. She gives a dreamy sigh, and Foggy can't help but recall all of the times that she's bothered him and Theo for news of grandchildren. Matt himself is such an institution in their family that he has a feeling that Ella is going to be accepted as if she's one of their own without question.

“Are you smelling her head, mom?” Foggy can’t help but ask when she ducks her head down, and puts it close to Ella’s curls.

“It’s the new baby smell,” she says, “there’s nothing like it. And hair already! It's so funny how some babies are born bald and others come with a full head of hair! I remember when Theo was born he had no hair for almost three years, he looked so ridiculous! Don't you remember that, Ed?”

Ed just grunts in response, and stabs the pancake he's been eating to get another piece to put in his mouth. He chews it slowly, feigning interest in his food.

“That’s probably baby powder,” Matt interjects, sensing the awkward silence. “I put a ton of it on her this morning, she had quite a…. Uh…”

“Oh the diaper situation gets much worse after they go on solid foods, trust me,” Anna states, walking around and bouncing the baby.

“Good God, Anna, it’s not even noon yet, can’t a man have some breakfast without talking about the fecal matters of infants?” Ed grumbles, pushing his chair back. “Can I get you some food, Matt? We have bacon, eggs, pancakes, the whole shebang.”

“Coffee is good,” Matt says simply.

Nobody offers anything to Foggy. But he supposes he grew up there, so it's up to him to serve himself. He’s still curious about how Matt found him, whether or not he went by Marci’s and if he talked to her and what she may or may not have said about their break up. But his stomach is rumbling, so he just goes to the cabinet and gets a dish, putting a bit of everything on it before returning to the table and sitting in the far seat in the last remaining seat in the tiny breakfast nook.

There’s a relative quiet then as Foggy munches on his food, Ed goes back to reading the paper, Matt drinks his coffee, and Anna fusses over the baby. “If you ever need anybody to watch her, you can ask me,” she offers, as if she has nothing better to do all day than watch someone else’s baby. “I’m so silly, I didn’t even think to ask you her name.”

“It’s Ella,” Matt tells her, looking disappointed as the coffee in his mug is gone and he no longer has a prop to hide behind.

“Ohh how lovely, baby Ella. It's not time to feed her, is it?" 

“It seems like she it's always time to feed her, somehow.”

“Perfect, perfect, I’ll get the formula from the bag here, and you boys can go in Foggy’s bedroom and talk.”

Foggy isn’t nearly done with his food yet, but somehow his stepmother is shoving him up from his chair. She makes a face at him that he can’t read, and shoos them both out of the kitchen and down the hall. Matt, who is relatively well-versed in Foggy’s parent’s apartment from having stayed over for various holidays while they were in Columbia, follows him without much trouble.

When they get to his bedroom, Foggy firmly shuts the door after them. The desk that he and Theo shared once upon a time is covered in dust, which Matt can probably tell from the smell of the room itself. The ancient rolling swivel chair is also plastered with dust, but Matt still plops himself down on it, nearly falling off of it entirely when it tilts at a sudden strange angle because no one has used in at least a decade.

Foggy laughs, feeling a tiny bit hysterical. “Good to know you’re human after all,” he says.

Matt frowns at him, but it doesn’t seem like a serious frown. “Your mother seems to like babies.”

_My stepmother,_ Foggy wants to correct him. But it’s a reflex to lie (or rather omit) Anna’s true relationship to him. It had been all too easy when he first met Matt to not explain about his birth mother. Especially since Theo really is Anna’s birth mother, and generally the Nelson’s just pretend that Foggy is as well.

“Yeah, you should have seen her when Ruthie was born, she was over the moon.” Foggy fiddles with an old school airplane model that’s hanging from the ceiling, a relic left over from when Theo wanted to be an astronaut or an Air Force pilot. He wonders if Theo really left those dreams behind and moved on, or if he still harbors secret fantasies of flying through the skies.

“So you and Marci,” his friend starts, then he stops again. “You aren’t…”

“No, I left. Well, moved out. Last weekend.” He bites his lip, resolutely focusing on the model and not on Matt’s face. He can't seem to talk in more than chopped phrases, fumbling through the explanation.

“You could have said something.”

He whirls around at that, anger surging through him. “When Matt, when? When you’re out there, gallivanting as….” He stops as he hears Anna’s footsteps pacing somewhere in the apartment, biting back some of what he was about to say. “There’s never a good time with you! Everything you do is so much more important - ”

Matt stands abruptly, invading Foggy’s space. He puts a hand on his shoulder, pressing tight. “Listen to me, Foggy, there is nothing more important to me than you and Karen. Nothing.”

There’s a constriction in his throat. He wishes that Matt truly meant it, but he knows that he doesn’t. Time and again, he’s always chosen his persona over his friends. He flashes back to that horrible moment in the police precinct, waiting, watching that doorway for Matt to appear after the explosion at Midland Circle… that damn doorway haunts his nightmares far more often than he would like. Empty and terrifying, a great gaping absence at the center of his life. And even though Matt did eventually come back, still the thought haunts him that someday that won’t be the case.

Someday Matt will be gone, and he won’t be walking through any kind of doorway. Because he'll have chosen Daredevil, and his mission, over everything else. That's his number one priority, and it always will be. 

“Sure,” Foggy says, abruptly wanting to shove Matt’s hand off. But he doesn’t, and Matt just sighs as if sensing Foggy’s thoughts.

“I know I haven’t always lived up to it in the past, but things are going to be different now. _They have to be different now._ ” He lets go of Foggy’s shoulder, but he doesn’t step back. “I’m really sorry about you and Marci.”

Tears are welling up in his eyes and threatening to spill over. Even though he didn’t love Marci as well as he should have, he still cares about her, and he has regrets about ending things this way. “How did you find out?”

“I went by there this morning, to try and talk to you because you weren't answering your phone. I wanted to go to church, but I just couldn't, not with Ella. It’s just too much to explain right now. But I could tell when I got to the apartment that you weren’t…”

“You used your senses, and you could tell that I wasn’t there?” He laughs, imagining Matt standing outside, listening for his breathing rhythm or his heart patterns.

“I just wanted to make sure that you were okay, Fog.”

“And this was the next natural place to check.”

Matt is biting his lip, and he’s close, so close that Foggy wants to reach out and trace his lip with the edge of his thumb. “Yes, it was."

Foggy clears his throat awkwardly, deliberately stepping back and plopping himself down on the bed to try and put more space between them. Matt, apparently totally missing the message, sits down right next to him instead of going back to the swivel chair. Thus causing Foggy’s mind to go into overdrive, running wild with fantasies of pushing Matt back down onto his bed, kissing him thoroughly, and never letting him get up again.

“So, where are you going to go?” Matt asks, interrupting his utterly inappropriate train of thought.

Totally distracted, it takes him a moment to catch up. “Uh… a new apartment maybe? I let the old one go a few months ago to try and save money.” He shakes his head, "Stupid move"

His friend laughs, a true Matt-laugh, an explosion of sound that seems almost as if it takes the man himself by surprise. “Housing in New York is a nightmare. It’s going to take you months to find a new place.”

“Weeks, maybe,” he retorts hotly. “I’ll manage.”

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I could probably use some help right now. And you seem pretty good with Ella. So…”

Foggy’s heart is thudding so loud he’s sure that Matt can hear it reverberating like a drum beat. He isn’t asking what he thinks he is, is he?

“What I'm trying to say is that if you would want to stay with me awhile, I have the space.”

He doesn’t say anything in response, and Matt apparently thinks that means he has to be more convincing, so he adds: “I could sleep on the couch if you want the bed. Or we could get a sleeper twin from somewhere to put in the living room.”

Should he say yes to this? He wants to say yes so badly that it’s burning him up inside. The only problem is that Matt wants him to move in so that he can help with the baby, and probably because he thinks Foggy is pathetic, sleeping here in his parent’s tiny apartment in his old bedroom.

“I wouldn’t want to impose,” he says, and Matt laughs again, smiling.

“Actually I think I’m the one that’s imposing on you, asking you to move in with me to help with a crying baby who likes to poop twelve times a day. So what do you say - Nelson and Murdock? Working together? Living together? Possibly killing each other when we can't stand each other's company anymore?"

He puts his hand out to shake as if they’re making a business deal, and Foggy can’t help but wrap his arms around Matt’s shoulders instead and pull him into a hug, gratitude swelling in his heart. Matt hugs him back, pulling him so close that Foggy can smell clean soap and the subtle hint of aftershave. He’s quite sure that he doesn’t smell nearly as appealing as Matt does at the moment, but he still can’t seem to make himself let go of Matt for several long minutes.

“I’m taking this as a yes, you know,” Matt says into his ear. “You can’t back out on me now, Nelson, you’re stuck with me.”

_God I hope so,_ Foggy thinks. He whispers a silent prayer to whatever deity might be listening that maybe he can stay with Matt and Ella forever.


	6. A Visit to Union Square Market and an Unexpected Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen takes a visit to the Union Square Market, and runs into someone she hasn't seen for awhile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title for this chapter: That awkward moment when Frank Castle bursts into your fanfiction screaming, "I've come for my girl!!"
> 
> For more info on the Union Square Holiday Market you can check out their site: https://www.urbanspacenyc.com/union-square-holiday-market/

At the same time that Foggy and Matt are hugging it out in his childhood bedroom, Karen Page is making her way around the labyrinth that is the Union Square Holiday Market. In the past few years, she's always managed to pick out thoughtful gifts for Matt and Foggy for their annual gift exchange on Christmas Eve. They have a ritual set up where they always eat dinner together, and then Matt usually goes to Midnight Mass at Saint Agnes. This year, Karen had been thinking of going with him, if only to honor Father Lantom. But now it's less than ten days 'til Christmas and she has nothing yet for either one of them. Foggy might be the easier one, because she’s struggling to figure out what to get for Matt in light of the news about his….

She stumbles even thinking the words “his daughter” in her mind. Wait, should she buy something for the baby too? Is that an expected thing now?

She pauses so abruptly that she sloshes the hot chocolate that she’s been carrying, and several people who were walking behind her nearly run into her. One of the women in the group behind her grumbles as the other last minute holiday shoppers start to go around her like she’s a large rock set into a streambed. Karen ducks into the booth nearest to her to get out of the way, ignoring the death glares from irritated New Yorkers who probably assume that she’s some sort of brain-addled tourist.

This booth appears to be selling handmade wooden creations, the shavings and hand crafted items giving off the pleasant aroma of cedar and sandalwood. She pretends to peruse them while she tries to collect her thoughts, musing over handcrafted wooden roses and an intricate jewelry box. She sucks on the whipped cream on top of her hot chocolate, terrified more of it will spill over the side and drip onto a table with something expensive on it.

After a few moments, she ducks back outside and starts walking down the path again, following the steady stream of other shoppers, trying to look around the crowd to see what’s in the booths as she passes them. The whole market is set up in a sort of circular pattern, with a dizzying array of vendors all hawking their wares and trying to convince shoppers to put down their hard earned cash and credit cards for the sake of “holiday happiness.” At this point in her life, Karen can’t quite help but wonder what all this gluttony is really achieving. She muses about writing some sort of piece about consumerism and capitalism during the holidays compared to the rising rates of homelessness on the streets of New York. But she figures that most New Yorkers would gloss over it the same way they gloss over the folks sitting around at subway entrances and on sidewalks begging for money. Nobody wants to be confronted by uncomfortable truths, especially not around Christmas time.

An hour or so later she’s starting to feel a sense of exhaustion. She’s found a few small items and has them comfortably stashed in her shopping bag. The only trouble is that she’s only found things for herself: some sweet smelling strawberry-scented soap, some lotion from the same vendor, and a cute handmade purse that she found irresistible that looks like an octopus. She considered buying a book for Matt, and she saw one at a booth that she thinks that he’ll like, but she’ll have to see if she can order it in online in braille or as an audiobook. She has no idea what Foggy might want this year, but she’s seen a few vendors selling amazing fudge and chocolate boxes, as well as specialty bottles of mulled cider and spiced wine.

Maybe she could buy Matt a sweater? He tends to wear the same clothes over and over again though. And she know that he's particular about the kinds of fabrics that he prefers, and she doesn't know if she trusts herself to pick out something that he'll like. As she passes by a vendor selling cookware she wonders if she should buy something and send it to her father. She usually does, even though he's never sent her anything back. Well one year he sent her a box of some of her old things when he cleaned out their house, but that hardly counts as a Christmas present.

Her stomach rumbles as she passes a vendor selling pizza. She should probably get something to eat, maybe a sugary pretzel? She passed someone selling them a bit back… which way was it again? She gets delayed in her pretzel quest (quite literally) by the presence of a large stroller, and a woman talking to a vendor. She can’t quite get by the double wide stroller, so she looks at what the vendor is selling instead, laughing at the hilarious slogans that are printed on the baby onesies and bibs that hung up in the booth.

 _Oh my God_ , she thinks while reading one, laughing as she reads, _they were wombmates_.

“Please tell me that you aren’t pregnant.”

The voice would be more startling if it wasn’t so familiar, and if she wasn’t all too aware of how skilled the speaker is at sneaking up on people. She turns to see Frank with his hoodie pulled up over his head. He's wearing a dark hoodie with a black jacket, jeans, and boots, which is his fairly typical for him. In fact the only change from when she last saw him is that he seems to be growing his beard out again, probably trying to conceal his identity as best as he can. She can even see small tufts of his hair poking out from beneath the hood. He’s giving her a small smile and looking nervous, as if he isn't quite sure what his reception will be. 

“No,” she says, tucking a bit of her hair back behind her ear. “No, I’m not." She laughs, "I don't even have a boyfriend, Frank, so that would be a bit impossible."

“Good,” he says, leaning in close to her, so close his lips are basically brushing her hair. She isn't sure if he's talking about the fact that she isn't pregnant or that she's still single. Maybe he's glad about both of those statements.

The woman working at the booth finishes up with the purchase of the woman with the stroller, who moves along, the crowd parting way for her. The woman behind the counter is wearing an apron with an elf on it, and she looks over at them, probably sensing potential new customers. “See something you like?” she asks hopefully.

“Uhm…” Feeling like she’s lingered too long, Karen actually points out a onesie that says “Merry Christmas Baby!” and purchases it, figuring she can always just give it to Foggy to pass along to Matt if she chickens out. She buys it for a six month old, not quite sure how big Matt’s baby is right now, but figuring she can’t be much older than that. She also can't resist buying a ridiculous hat that looks like reindeer antlers, although she's not sure if the baby will like it.

She starts off again with her new bag in her arms, Frank trailing her close by. Their elbows brush together as the press of the crowd forces them closer together. “You got a girlfriend with a baby? Or somebody expecting one soon?” he asks her.

It’s a very sensible question, but she isn’t quite sure how to respond. Is Ella supposed to be a secret? And would Matt care if she tells Frank? They aren’t exactly friends, but she figures that he’s going to find out either way. “No, Matt does,” she says, turning to enjoy the look of pure shock and confusion that flitters across Frank’s face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, digging his pinky finger in his ear as if to clear it of wax. “Can you come again? I thought I just heard you say that Red has a baby.”

She shrugs, starting to walk again so that no one runs them over, heading back to the pretzel stand. Frank holds the rest of his questions until she’s got a pretzel in her hand. She also buys a hot tea that smells of lemon from them, fumbling as she tries to pull out her wallet and juggle her bags while she does so. He cuts her off as she tries to pay, gesturing that he wants a pretzel as well and holding out a $20 bill. She rolls her eyes, making her way over to a nearby table when she sees that another couple is leaving.

Frank follows her, munching on his pretzel as if he’s genuinely hungry. “Okay, so you’re going to explain what you just said, right?” he says to her, leaning back casually in the chair opposite from her. He looks relaxed, but she knows that the volume of the crowd is probably troubling him, as is the fact that they’re basically sitting ducks out here, at a table in the middle of a huge round labyrinth of shops. There’s no way for him to watch all the angles, but he’s gamely trying to pretend as if it’s not worrying him.

“Apparently Matt has a baby,” she says, heart constricting painfully, trying to focus on enjoying her pretzel. It really is good, warm and fluffy and pretty much the perfect food for a cold winter night.

“Since when?” Frank reaches over, sipping from her tea. She doesn’t stop him, just raises an eyebrow.

“Since a few days ago. One showed up on his doorstep, and she’s supposedly his.” She looks around at the holiday shoppers, trying not to feel a pang as she notices how many older mothers she sees with their daughters. What she wouldn't give to go shopping with her mother again, even once. Sometimes she feels surrounded by reminders of what she’s lost, as if happy families are everywhere and there she is: outside and alone. Utterly cut off from it all.

“Did he get some sort of test to make sure?” Frank asks, interrupting her thoughts. If anyone understands the sadness and loss that she feels at this time of year, it has to be him. She wonders where he spent his Christmas last year. Maybe he spent it alone, hidden away in a steel and concrete bunker somewhere, eating beans out of a can.

“Not that I know of.” She sips her tea, feeling the warmth of it spread through her chest. The sun is going down, and more twinkle lights are coming on. A group of acapella singers are setting up in an open space right near them, and she imagines they’re going to sing holiday songs. For some reason, she just isn’t in the mood for all this holiday cheer anymore, and she stands up, Frank following her as if tugged along by a string.

He jogs a bit and steps in front of her, walking backwards (a very risky move in a crowd like this one) so that he can see her face. “Did I say something wrong?” he asks.

“No,” she tells him, shoving her hair back once again. The wind keeps blowing it across her face, and it’s becoming irritating. “I just…”

He grabs her by the elbow, guiding her into a nearby booth. “You’re upset about Red and the baby,” he says.

She can’t look him in the face anymore, glancing away and pretending once again to be interested in what this vendor is selling - it turns out that they have socks with funny slogans and sayings on them. Maybe Foggy would like new socks? Or she could get them for Matt, it would suit him right, and he would never know what kind of ridiculous pattern they had. She bites her lip, running her fingers over some socks with a yeti on them as if she’s thinking of buying them.

She really doesn’t want to talk about this at all, let alone right in front of hundreds of strangers, all pressed far too close to her for comfort. “I’m fine,” she says shortly, ducking out again, ignoring Frank’s tiny huff of exasperation.

She’s walking quickly, but he easily keeps pace with her. Eventually she has to stop for breath, pausing in an open area near a lit up Christmas tree. She tells herself it’s just the wind that’s making her eyes water. It’s just the descending chill that’s coming in as the sun goes away that is making her shake and tremble. Because sure, she's upset about Matt, and the baby, I mean who wouldn't be? But right now it's so much more, with all this fake holiday cheer pressing down on her. She can't help but remember how things were, back before her mother died, and the world seemed so simple and easy. Every year that passes, she can't help but wonder what Kevin would be doing right now if he was alive. Would he be in college, getting a degree in something amazing like engineering? 

Or hell, at this point, he would probably be out of college. Would he have a family of his own right now? A baby, like Matt does? How much did she steal from him by her own selfish actions? How much did she potentially steal from someone else, the person he'll never meet, never marry, never love?

It’s nearly dark now, and Frank is an outline in black, lit up by the fairy lights around them. He stamps his feet, clearly feeling the cold. Or maybe he just feels awkward, standing here and talking to her about how her…. Ex? Her good friend? Her employer? What word even fits here? How _Matt_ now has a baby and somehow she’s upset.

It seems so stupid. She sighs, “I just want to forget about it right now,” she tells him. “Can we just….”

A group of carolers wearing ridiculous outfits pass by them, and Karen wonders if they’re here for the Market or if they’re headed somewhere else.

She looks up into Frank’s eyes and continues talking, even though each word feels like it’s costing her something precious. “Can we just pretend for awhile? Just pretend that nothing is wrong, that we're just out shopping as.... just shopping and enjoying everything?" She waves her arms to indicate the whole of the Market, the food, the gifts, the music. "I want to just…. Forget. Just for a little while. Can we do that, please?”

He nods, and one side of his mouth quirks up. “Sure, we can do that.” He offers her his elbow, and she takes it. Snuggling in close, they go back to the Market. And for a few hours, they do their level best to act like a normal pair of friends, who perhaps someday could be something more. She convinces him to try out some fudge before she buys it for Foggy, laughing at the look on his face when he bites into one that has cherry filling. Apparently cherry filling is very much not Frank Castle’s thing.

He helps her pick out a spiced wine as well, and by the time they’re done testing samples she’s feeling a bit unsteady on her feet. They decide to prank Matt by buying him a red sweater they find that has devil horns on it and the words: “But Santa, I’ve been good all year!” She isn’t sure she’ll really give it to him, but it feels fun and mischievous to buy something like that for him.

Frank actually finds some books at one of the stalls that he wants to buy, and she manages to sneakily pay for them with her credit card by demanding that he go and get her a water so that she can “sober up” after all that wine consumption. By the time he returns she has the books he wanted along with some others that she thinks he’ll really enjoy in a bag already paid for and ready to go. After that, they sit and enjoy some crepes with chocolate filling and strawberries while watching a large band play Christmas music. And for the first time in years, the music doesn’t make her feel quite so sad as it usually does. And for once she isn’t looking around at the other shoppers, instead she munches happily on her crepe and pretends that the lightheadedness she's experiencing from having Frank’s arm around her shoulders is due to the wine that she drank earlier.

At the end of the night, he rides the subway back with her to her apartment building. They’re silent the whole way, but she rests her head on his shoulder, feeling utterly exhausted by the day and the season in general. When they get back to the steps of her apartment she wonders if she should invite him in. The tension that has always existed between them is drawn taught like a bow, and even the night air seems still and silent, like it, too, is waiting to see what will happen next.

She looks up at him and doesn’t say anything, waiting for some sort of signal. She isn't sure why it matters, but she wants him to be the one to make the first move, if moves are going to be made at all. She wants to know that he means it, that he wants her. And that if she reaches out for him that he isn't just reaching back because he feels sorry for her. When he puts a hand on her neck, his thumb brushing her ear, she wonders if he’s going to kiss her. Instead he leans down, and the kiss lands on the top of her forehead.

“Have a good night, Karen,” he tells her, fading back into the night. “Merry Christmas.”

She watches him walk away, wondering where he goes when he isn’t with her. She hasn't heard anything much about the Punisher in the news, so she assumes that he's either keeping a profile or has semi-retired from his vigilante work. She wants to invite him to spend Christmas Day with her, but she wasn't sure that would accept. And now he's too far to call back without shouting. So she just watches until he turns a corner, wrapping her arms around herself as the wind whips around the tall buildings, cutting through her winter coat like a knife.

When she goes upstairs and puts her coat away, she notices something bulky in her pocket that wasn’t there before. She pulls it out, revealing a small, square box with a red bow. When she shakes it, something inside rattles. She opens it cautiously, fairly sure that she knows who it’s from.

Inside is a beautiful silver necklace with a single pearl drop and a tiny diamond winking on top of it. Simple and yet classic. She feels her throat catch in her heart as she reads the small note tucked under the padding in the box:

_Dear Karen,_

_When I saw this I thought of you._

_You deserve it, honestly you deserve everything._

_I know that I don’t have any right to ask you to be mine all things considered, but I wish that you were._

_Merry Christmas,_  
_~Frank_


	7. Take Your Baby to Work Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt takes Ella to work, and the trio reunites over Chinese food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter just grew out of control somehow, but I hope you're all enjoying reading it! Next time: Matt and Foggy take Ella to see Santa Claus. Featuring: The Defenders! And possibly Danny Rand as Santa Claus, because why tf not?

_Mondays truly are the worst._

Matt groans, rolling over in his bed as he hears the incessant alarm on Foggy’s phone go off again. It’s been nearly fifteen minutes, and Foggy still hasn’t turned it off yet. He must just be sleeping straight through it, although if he’s as exhausted as Matt feels, he can’t say that he blames him. Ella was up and crying every two hours or so, and the lack of sleep makes his body ache like he’s gone ten rounds with some sort of heavy hitter.

He rolls out of bed comically, almost smacking his face into the floor before he gets to his feet and stumbles into the living room. Foggy is snoring, and Matt imagines his face is crammed into the pillows, because that’s exactly how he slept in college. The sound of him is enough to wake the dead, something that Matt also remembers from college. Eventually he had gotten earplugs to dull the noise after one eventful evening of staring down at his roommate and seriously considering putting a pillow over him and smothering him in his sleep.

“Foggy,” he hisses from a foot or so away, desperate to wake up Foggy but not Ella. The last thing he wants to hear is more crying.

Zero response. He walks closer, laying a hand gently on Foggy’s shoulder. He shakes him a bit, and Foggy shifts, mumbling something about ten more minutes. Matt sighs, and prays for patience as a tiny cry goes up from the crib in Matt’s bedroom.

At that Foggy sits bolt upright, Matt’s hand sliding off of him. “What…” Foggy clears his throat, obviously confused about where he is. He gives a loud yawn, eyes opening as he looks around, still appearing disoriented.

“Your phone has been going off for quite awhile,” Matt tells him, going back to the bedroom and picking Ella up. He’s never been great at arriving at work (or anywhere really) on time, and he’s guessing that having to make sure that Ella is changed, fed, and ready to go is going to do nothing to improve that situation.

“Here, I can take her.”

Foggy is standing behind him in his pajamas, and Matt gives him Ella without protest. His brain is still half asleep, and he’s acting mostly with his lizard brain at the moment, purely on instinct. He feels like Tarzan:  _Here friend, have baby. Foggy take her, she like him._

“Why don’t you shower first,” Foggy suggests, “I’ll get her ready, make some coffee, and then jump in after you’re done.”

He doesn’t feel right about all this. Because having Foggy live here is one thing. It’s another thing entirely though to take advantage of the situation. “It’s not a problem, I can…”

“It’s just faster, Matt, we’re already running late.”

It’s hard to argue with that logic. Foggy’s footsteps pad away from him and into the living room, and he hears the rustling sound of him searching for a new diaper through all of the boxes of baby stuff that they haven’t gotten around to unpacking yet. Matt groans and accepts the gift of several long minutes to himself and a hot shower.

\----

It’s pretty much the only alone time that he winds up having all day. And to say that things proceed awkwardly is the understatement of the year. For some reason Karen winds up running even later than Matt and Foggy, and by the time she arrives Ella is already (more or less) safely stashed in Matt’s office. Because she’s so young, she isn’t incredibly mobile yet. So they’ve decided to bring a small playpen, and to set it up in Matt’s office. They’re planning on taking clients in Foggy’s office or in the small office that they use for more private client conferences.

And either Matt or Foggy will take turns checking in on her to make sure that she’s alright. Although with Matt’s heightened hearing, there’s no way that she’ll start crying or have a breathing issue without him noticing. It’s just a stop gap measure until they can find something more permanent, although Matt still isn’t sure just what in the hell that more permanent measure is going to be.

They manage to get to the office about fifteen minutes before 8, when clients typically start to show up. Matt carries Ella, and Foggy lugs the ridiculously large box that has the playpen in it. There’s no elevator in their building, so he huffs and puffs and dutifully drags it up the three flights of stairs that lead up to Nelson, Murdock, and Page. “We’re leaving this thing here, Matt,” he wheezes as they unlock the door to the office. “For the rest of our natural lives, this playpen is going to live in your office. I hope you’re okay with that.”

They move the furniture aside to make room, and Matt does his best to help Foggy as he reads the instructions and tries to put the thing together. “Why do they make these things so complicated,” Foggy grumbles. “No… hold that part steady.” He leans against Matt’s shoulder and pushes the rod down, relieved to hear a clicking noise. Matt isn’t sure why, but Foggy seems more distracted than usual, and he keeps losing track of the parts that they’re supposed to be assembling. “Okay so that’s the bed, now we have to put in the…. Where did that little ratchet go again?”

“I heard something metallic drop to the floor,” Matt replies, “it rolled under the desk.”

“Gotcha!” Foggy holds it up triumphantly, and they manage to get the bed put together and the door open by 8 am, which is nothing short of a miracle.

Miss Orestes is actually waiting outside when they open the door, smiling and holding her handbag in front of her. “Oh, there you are, Mr. Murdock,” she says, smiling. Her wispy white hair forms a halo around her head, and she gives them a toothy grin. Matt imagines she was probably quite the hell raiser when she was younger, and old age hasn’t seemed to slow her down. “I was so worried when you weren’t in on Friday. That’s not like you!”

Foggy snorts as if he wants to interject some sort of comment about Matt’s reliability, but he wisely doesn’t say anything.

“No worries, Miss Orestes,” Matt says, holding the door open for her and ushering her inside. “Everything is under control. If you don’t mind, I think it might be best if we meet in Mr. Nelson’s…”

“Oh, is there a baby here?”

 _Crap_. In their rush to get inside and everything settled, they left the carrier on the desk in the waiting room. What a dead giveaway.

“That would be the reason that I wasn’t here on Friday,” Matt says, and he can sense Foggy’s heart constrict and his breathing stutter. Sometimes he worries that he’s going to give his friend a heart condition with all the added stress that he gives him. “But really, the reason that you’re here is your legal case…”

“Do you have a baby, Mr. Murdock, I thought you said you were single!” Miss Orestes utterly ignores him, making a beeline straight for Matt’s office.

Matt can sense Foggy shrug as if he’s saying _She’s all yours, Matt_. He goes into his office, probably to prepare himself for his own day, and Matt chases after Miss Orestes. He finds her staring down into the playpen. He can tell that Ella is awake, laying on her back peaceably in the playpen. They placed some hanging mobile toys above her: a mirror, a shaker, a soft and squishy caterpillar. Mostly at her age she just seems to stare around, observing everything going on in the environment. He makes a mental note that in some of the spare time that he absolutely does not have that he’s going to read a few books on child development.

“Oh, what a darling,” Miss Orestes says, sounding genuinely pleased, although why Matt can’t quite say why she’s so charmed by Ella. He isn’t quite sure why people seem to care so much for other people’s children. He’s never been a particular fan of children and babies in general, not even Foggy’s nieces and nephews. “Did you have an unexpected interruption in your childcare?” she asks him. He feels like there’s a lingering question there, but she politely holds back from saying anything more invasive.

“Yes, yes, that’s it exactly,” he says, going back behind his desk and sitting down. He gestures at the seat across from him, but she stays standing. “So now if we can turn the topic of our conversation to…’

“You know, if you need any recommendations, I know a great pediatrician right around the corner.”

“That, uh…”

Wasn’t exactly something he had thought of at all. Of course Ella is going to need a doctor, don’t babies have to see someone all the time? He isn’t even sure if she’s been vaccinated or not, and he doesn’t have any idea how he’ll explain away the fact that she doesn’t have a birth certificate either. He makes a mental note to call Claire. He knows that he can’t be the first person to find himself in this sort of situation, and if anyone knows how to get proper medical care for Ella, it’s going to be her.

“That would be great,” he says, trying to sound totally unperturbed and professional.

“You really should put some pictures up of her so your clients can see her, she’s so beautiful. You aren’t married, are you? If you don’t mind me saying so, I also know some lovely young ladies…”

He hears the rapid tapping of shoes, and Karen ducks her head in the office doorway just in time to save him for further delving into the tangled story of his love life. “I’m sorry I’m late, there was a bit of an issue with the subway this morning…”

“Oh Miss Page, have you seen Mr. Murdock’s baby? She’s so lovely!”

It’s painful to hear how Karen’s heart patters at that, how her breathing seems to stutter. Clearly she’s upset, but now isn’t exactly the best time or place to discuss it. Matt stands up, although what he intends to do he isn’t certain. But Karen is already walking towards the playpen, tilting her head to look down at Ella.

She laughs, releasing the breath that she’s been holding. “She is lovely, indeed, Miss Orestes. Can I offer you anything? Orange juice, coffee, water?’

Ella seems to be enchanted by Karen, or maybe she’s just interested in all that golden hair. She reaches a hand up as if trying to get to this mysterious face, or asking to be picked up. She kicks her feet in frustration when Karen walks away.

“Coffee would be wonderful, my dear. How thoughtful of you. Mr. Murdock would you like some as well? Really isn’t she such a thoughtful woman and so beautiful too…”

“I’m alright…” Matt begins to protest, wanting to say that he can get his own coffee.

But Karen beats him to the punch. Her voice is overly bright and peppy, but Miss Orestes can’t seem to discern the false cheer in it. “No worries, I can get some coffee going. I imagine Foggy is going to want some as well. I’ll be back in ten minutes, or maybe twenty if I get tied up with something.”

With that she’s gone, the sweet smell of her lingering even after she’s gone. Ella fusses, making a tiny crying noise that immediately draws the attention of his client, who wants to pick her up to make sure that she’s alright. Matt sighs, and does his best to redirect the conversation to legal matters. He has a feeling that this is going to be a very long day.

\---

“Boy, I’m exhausted,” Karen says, and Matt can hear the squeak of the chair as she leans back and puts her feet up on the desk. She’s taken her shoes off and is now wriggling her toes.

“And with all that, the day is finally over!” Foggy crows, punching the air as he walks out of his office and into the main waiting area. It’s nearly 7 pm, and although they haven't finished up the entirety of their backlog, they've made enough progress that they can call it quitting time. Foggy throws himself down on the couch in the waiting room across from Karen’s desk. “What d’you say we order some Chinese food from the Imperial?”

“Sounds great to me!” she replies.

Foggy is already pulling out a menu from where they stashed it in the kitchenette, and bringing it back into the waiting room before she even finishes her sentence.

“I’m in,” Matt interjects. “That is, if no one has any objections.” He feels supremely awkward as he lurks in the doorway to his office. Since bringing him his coffee, Karen has barely spoken ten words to him. To be fair though, he hasn't said much to her either. I mean, what is he supposed to say in this situation anyway?

 _Sorry I had a baby with another woman, Karen. I know that we awkwardly sort of dated for a few weeks and then that fell through because I was a rotten liar to you, and I know this whole thing is insanely weird but can we just keep going as friends, because I would seriously jump off a bridge if you weren’t in my life? ..._ Yeah, that probably isn’t going to cut it.

“What kind of objections would we have? We’re all starving!” Foggy is putting his coat on rapidly, without even waiting for Karen and Matt to tell him what they want. “Everyone want the usual?” he asks as he opens the door, “Be back soon!” The door slams without anyone in the office actually answering him. They’re both left in relative quiet. Clearly Foggy has set them up to talk about their issues, but for the longest moment neither of them speaks. Instead Karen pretends to look at her phone, even though Matt hasn’t heard any chimes recently. For his part, he fiddles with his tie and coughs.

The silence is broken by the sound of Ella, who (based on the sound of her crying) has just woken up from a nap and isn’t too happy about it. Matt groans, wondering if that sound will ever stop being so grating. He goes into his office to pick her up, trying to rub her back in a soothing way as he rests her against his chest and props her head against his shoulder. Foggy told him that babies like back rubs and belly rubs, and that it will help to keep her quiet. But Matt can’t quite seem to master it. Sure, he can take out a ninja that has no heartbeat or a badass biker with a baseball bat, but present him with a crying baby and he feels like he really is as helpless as people sometimes think he is when they see that he’s blind.

“Need any help?” Karen asks, leaning against the doorway to his office.

“Well based on how she smells, I think that she needs to be changed,” Matt says, laughing. “I’m not sure you want to volunteer for that.”

“I used to babysit some twins when I was a teenager, it can’t be any worse than that.” She walks closer to them, and it seems as if she’s observing Ella, tilting her head and making a soft ‘hmm-ing’ noise.

“If you can just hand me a diaper and the wipes, I’ll try to manage on my own.”

The only open space is his office desk. It certainly isn’t hygienic, but it’ll have to do for now. He lays Ella out, sliding her pants off and popping open the onesie. The smell greatly increases when it’s open, and he jerks his head to the side. He hears Karen laughing as she approaches with the diaper and the wipes.

“You think this is funny, do you?” he asks, trying to not worry too much that he’s about to get peed on when he pops open the diaper, holding Ella’s legs together with one hand so that she can be propped up. With his other hand he tries to open the wipes.

“You’re terrible at this, really,” Karen says. She gently elbows him, and he lets Ella go, lowering her down and letting Karen take over. In a matter of moments she’s wiped her down and swapped out the dirty diaper for a clean one. “Here, do something with this,” she says, handing the dirty diaper over to Matt.

“Like what, launch it into space?” he asks.

“Well you should at least put it in the bathroom for now, or else it’s going to stink up your whole office.” Karen pulls back on Ella’s pants, hesitating for a second before picking the baby up. “Your choice.” Her heart rate slows, as does Ella’s, and he hears her sniff, breathing in the scent of the baby just like Foggy’s mother did. Apparently sniffing babies is a thing, who knew?

Matt dutifully takes the dirty diaper away, carrying it to their bathroom and placing it in the garbage bin that has a lid on it. Hopefully that will help to keep some of the smell in. When he comes back into his office, Karen is carrying Ella around. The baby is still making tiny protest noises, indicating some sort of unhappiness. “I think she wants some dinner too,” Karen says.

“If you keep holding her, I can make her a bottle,” Matt suggests, listening as Ella starts to get louder.

“That might be a good idea." 

She follows him out to the tiny kitchenette area that they have, shifting slowly back and forth, rocking Ella in a comforting way. “She seems like she likes you,” Matt says, just to fill the silence.

“Babies are easy,” Karen says, and Matt nearly chokes on the explosion of hysterical laughter that bubbles up within him at that remark.

“Maybe if you know what you’re doing.” The bottle is ready, and he comes over to Karen. She gently places Ella in his arms, the softness of her hands brushing his as they transfer over. She smells sweet, like strawberries, but there’s also a scent underneath it all… something sharp and metallic, it’s niggling at the back of his brain…

“You’ll get the hang of it, I imagine,” she tells him, stepping back.

“Look, Karen, I uh…”

 _Frank_ , his brain supplies suddenly. _She smells like Frank_.

“You don’t really owe me an explanation,” she says, retreating back to her desk and fiddling with some papers that don’t really need filing.

“Don’t I? We’re friends, Karen. And I want for us to stay that way. I mean, you have to believe that I never intended for any of this to happen.”

Ella is sucking down the bottle, and he can hear her slurping as he waits for a response from Karen. He wonders when exactly she saw Frank last, and if she’s ever going to tell him what’s really going on between the two of them. He can’t help but worry about what’s going to happen if she chooses to associate with someone like the Punisher, but he seems to recall a phrase about people living in glass houses that makes him hold his tongue.

“I want us to stay friends too, Matt. This just…” she takes a deep breath. “It took me by surprise is all.”

“That’s a great word for it. Surprise!” He smiles, hearing the sound of Foggy’s footsteps coming back down the hallway towards them. “Although usually surprises are supposed to be things like presents or birthday gifts and not…”

“Infant children showing up at your doorstep?” She chuckles a bit at her own joke. “It’s just going to take some time to get used to it, that’s all. Just give me some time.”

The door opens, and Foggy walks in, carrying their bags of Chinese food. “It’s fucking freezing out,” he yells as soon as the door is open. He carries the scent of night air with him, and there's fresh snow on his hair that's melting. Karen hurries over to help him with the bags, setting them all down on the counter in the kitchenette.

As the first box pops open and the smell of chicken fried rice hits him, Matt’s stomach rumbles, indicating exactly how hungry he is. Ella also seems to decide that that’s the perfect moment to cough, spitting up some of the milk that she just drank. There’s no warning, and Matt doesn’t move quickly enough. So some of the throw up winds up decorating the front of his shirt and his tie. “Oh perfect, Ella, thank you,” he says sarcastically, walking into the kitchenette to try and get a paper towel and wet it down.

“It seems like Matt is going to need a lot of help with this baby,” Karen says, directing her comment to Foggy and nudging him a bit.

“When doesn’t Matt need our help,” he replies drolly. “And voila! Dinner is served.”

After Matt cleans as much of the spit up as he can off of himself, he tucks Ella back into her carrier in his office. She doesn’t like being buckled in, but he manages to get her settled before bringing her back out to the main waiting area where Foggy and Karen are both sitting on the couch, tucking into the food.

“Here,” Karen says, getting up and walking over to the kitchenette. “I put together a plate for you.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“Well, I was afraid if I didn’t set some aside that Foggy and I might eat it all before you got back out here.”

She holds the plate out, and Matt takes it as the peace offering that he knows it to be. He settles into a chair near his friends, and starts in on his food with fervor. Foggy and Karen chatter on about holiday plans, both clearly striving for normalcy. Christmas Eve dinner plans are made, and they all agree that once again they’re going to be meeting at Matt’s apartment, since he has the largest open space.

“And you’re bringing Marci, right?” Karen asks. She carries her empty plate to the sink to wash it, clearly not expecting the bombshell that Foggy is about to drop.

“About that…” Foggy pauses, plastic fork scratching his plate in a discordant sound that goes straight into Matt’s brain.

“What, are the two of you doing something different this year?” Karen walks back into the room, drying her hands on a paper towel.

"Actually, we’re not going to be doing anything, because we uh… we broke up.” He looks down at his plate, and Karen rushes over to hug him with an “Oh, Foggy." 

She looks over at Matt, and he can sense the question on her lips before she vocalizes it. “Did you know about this?”

“There’s been a lot going on,” Matt tells her, tilting his head towards the baby carrier.

“When did this happen?” she asks Foggy, turning back to him.

“Last week.” Foggy is still playing with his fork, grinding it harshly against his plate even though there's nothing left on it to eat. The sound of it makes Matt grind his teeth together in frustration.

“And since then you’ve been staying where?”

“With my parents at first, and now I'm staying with Matt.”

Karen’s head whips towards him, and he could swear that she’s staring at him suspiciously. “Are you taking advantage of Foggy’s situation Matt?”

“No.” Foggy is the one to respond, standing and carrying his plate to the sink. “That's not it at all. I needed a place to stay, and Matt needed some help. So it just makes sense right now. I'll find a place of my own soon, and then everything can go back to normal.”

She gives a long, deep sigh. “Can I ask what happened?”

“It just wasn’t working out.” He shrugs, as if this all means nothing, as if he isn't hurting deep inside. He clearly wants her to drop the topic, and just move on to something else. But unfortunately for him, Karen wouldn’t be a very good reporter if she wasn’t persistent.

“Wasn’t working out?” she asks, disbelief evident in every syllable that comes out of her mouth. “Wasn’t working out how?”

“Just not working out! Sometimes that happens, it just doesn’t work out! And it’s nobody’s fault, it’s just a thing that happens. Sometimes it’s just not right, and someone has to end it. And that someone was me, and I did it last week." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, pushing the short strands of it back from his face.

Matt is on his feet before he knows it, walking over to Foggy and resting a calming hand on his shoulder. “We understand,” he says, turning his face towards where he knows Karen is sitting. “Don’t we, Karen?”

“Sure.” It’s clear that she doesn’t like it, but she’s too tired to keep asking questions. “Just let me know, Foggy. Whatever you need, I’m here for you.” She stands up, walking over to them before adding: “And you, Matt. Just keep me in the loop, okay?”

Foggy reaches out a hand, plopping it down on Karen’s shoulder. With his other hand he reaches back for Matt, connecting the three of them in a strange sort of triangle. “Look at us,” he says, “the Three Musketeers!”

Matt can’t help but laugh in a self-deprecating way, “Yeah, three very messed up Musketeers.”

“So exactly like the original ones then?” Karen can’t help but throw back.

“Los tres avocados!” Foggy insists, utterly butchering multiple languages in one go.

“You really… no, just no,” Matt tells him, shaking his head. "No more Spanish for you, Foggy. You're cut off."

And just like that, much of the tension that’s lingered all day disperses.

\---

Later that night, when Matt is looking down at Ella in her crib (fast asleep for the moment), Foggy again puts his arm around his shoulders, drawing him in close for a side hug. Matt goes with it without complaint, leaning into the physical contact with a sense of relief. He’s glad that Karen no longer seems to be angry at him, even if he is worried about what other kind of trouble she might be getting herself into with Frank.

“So, day one is over and done with,” Foggy says.

“Day one?”

“Yeah, that was basically day one.”

"Wasn’t day one when she showed up?”

“Nah, that was all just shock and survival. Now this, this was day one of really taking care of her. And I think that you did awesome.”

“No, I think that _we_ did awesome,” Matt corrects him. He puts his arm up and around Foggy's shoulder, drawing him closer. There’s something about the smell of him that Matt has always found so comforting - something that makes him think of comfort, of stability, of _home_.

“Thanks, man. Just doing what I can.” Foggy’s voice is too light, as if he’s trying to pass off this genuine emotional moment as nothing more than what friends usually do for one another.

“No really,” Matt turns his head, suddenly realizing how close they are to one another. At this range it would be all too easy to lean forward and… and what? Kiss his friend? His pulse pounds, and he’s glad that Foggy doesn’t share his heightened senses, that he can’t tell that Matt’s blood is rushing through his body in a dangerous way, headed towards some point of no return. He swallows, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. “I couldn’t do this without you, you know,” he says honestly.

Foggy gathers him in close again, hugging him before letting him go. He walks into the bathroom to change into his pajamas, leaving Matt behind wondering what the hell just happened.


	8. Santa, Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An adventure to the mall to see Santa has the trio running into some familiar faces in a very unexpected way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're back to Foggy's POV, and next chapter will be about Karen and Frank. Huzzah! Also, updates might be every other day if the rest of these chapters wind up being 6,000 words. But I really want to get the Christmas Eve and Christmas Day chapters up at the same time as those events are happening in real time, so I’ll buckle down and try to type faster!

Foggy isn’t quite sure why he hugged Matt that night in his apartment. It was based on nothing more than an impulse, and it’s one that he regrets giving into. Because even though Matt hugged him back, he feels pretty sure that the hug didn’t quite mean the same thing to his friend as it did to him. And is it even right to touch someone like that when they don’t realize how you feel? He knows a hug is just an innocent gesture, but there's a lingering queasy feeling in his stomach that just won't go away no matter what he does.

He wants to tell Matt how he feels (hell, how he’s always felt) but the fact that he’s living at his place right now is complicating the situation. This is pretty much how things always seem to go in this arena. He wants to tell Matt how he feels, but then there's something that comes up and gets in the way. Either Matt is dating someone else, or he’s failing out of Torts, or they’re working 80 hours a day in a soul sucking internship at Landman and Zack while secretly sleeping under their desks in the same office. Or, you know, Matt has decided to become a crime fighting vigilante, and chaos has ensued. 

He realizes that all of these are simply excuses, and that he should just tell Matt how he feels. There is obviously never going to be a good time, and Matt probably isn't going to hate him for it. Ultimately, he's just not sure that he wants to jeopardize their friendship over something as stupid as an unrequited crush.

He groans, shoving his face into the papers on his desk. He can’t even believe that it’s Friday. The entire week has passed in a blur of taking care of Ella, and trying to catch up with their legal work before they close up for the weekend and then Christmas after that. Matt actually made an executive decision (which Foggy agreed to) to close the office for the entire week. That way they can not only catch up on paperwork, but they might also be able to take a bit of a vacation before the new year comes around. They could all definitely use one.

“Foggy?”

He looks up, bits of paper still sticking to his face and obscuring his vision. He pulls a client intake form from his face, hoping that the ink hasn’t imprinted onto his skin.

“What’s up?” he asks Karen, trying to act like she hasn’t just caught him with his head down on his desk.

She rolls her eyes at him, clearly not fooled by his charade. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m going to take off soon. I think we’re as set as we’re ever going to be for the new year.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He looks down at the mess of papers on his desk, and he reaches over to try and shuffle them into some sort of organization. Karen, apparently taking pity on him, comes over and does her best to help him out.

“So we’re still on for Christmas Eve at Matt’s place, right?” he asks her.

She nods, but there’s a look on her face that seems a bit sad. She’s been wearing a new necklace this week, with a pearl drop and a small diamond on it. As she moves around the diamond catches the light and winks at him. “That’s a really nice necklace,” he adds, just trying to make casual conversation.

The way that she freezes tells him that he’s hit on something unexpected though. She gives a small laugh that comes out sounding more like a cough. “Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” The papers make a thumping noise as she tries to make all of the edges even.

He opens his mouth ask her more about it, but Matt is rapping his knuckles on the doorway of his office, as if they can’t both just see him standing there. “Are we closing up shop?” he asks.

For some reason, Foggy feels his face flushing. He’s actually turning red, and his heart is racing. He hurries to try and finish up with the last of the paperwork, cursing himself as he does so. Karen is definitely looking at him strangely now, probably wondering why he's acting so strange. He isn’t even sure what the hell is happening to him these days. He’s seen Matt twelve thousand times in his life, and he’s had a crush on him basically since he first laid eyes on him. So why is losing the ability to control himself now?

He ignores the curious expression on Karen's face, opening a drawer and shoving some of the papers into it in a haphazard fashion. He figures that he’ll pay for the disorganization later, but right now he just wants to get the hell out of the office. “Yeah, we're closing up! Are you ready to head home yet?” 

“I was actually wondering if you two were up for an adventure,” he asks, laughing and pushing his glasses further up on his nose.

“An adventure?” Foggy asks, not believing his ears. He can't mean something to do with Daredevil, can he?

Karen crosses her arms, as if she’s drawn the same conclusion that Foggy has and is preparing herself for some serious disappointment. But Matt simply laughs at the both of them, shaking his head. “No, no, no,” he says. “An adventure to somewhere far more terrifying.” He pauses for dramatic effect. “A shopping mall at three days ‘til Christmas.”

\---

“This is absurd!” Foggy jumps back as yet another child runs into him, making him bump into Matt again. He isn't sure why, but children often seem to drawn to give him zero personal space. Maybe he looks like their uncle or an older cousin or a friendly teacher from their school. He isn't sure what it is, but it can be insanely irritating to deal with sometimes.

Matt laughs, seeming strangely carefree, his attitude totally at odds with how he usually is in large crowds like this. He pulls Foggy in front of the stroller, saying: “Here, you can push Ella. Maybe the stroller will give you a buffer.” And then he puts an arm around Karen's shoulder, leaning into her as if he's drunk. She returns the gesture, smiling at him.

_See there,_ he tells himself, _putting your arm around someone is merely a friendly gesture. Nothing more to it than that._

“Are we almost there?” Karen demands, raising her voice to be heard about the crush of the crowd.

“I have no idea,” Foggy yells back, “I can’t see anything at all.”

“I think we’re getting close,” Matt interjects. “Or at least close to where the line is.”

“How long do you imagine the wait for Santa is going to be?” Karen slides closer to Matt to dodge another shopper, and Foggy actually feels an awful pang of jealousy that he quickly tries to squash down. He should really be watching where he’s going, and instead he’s looking back so that he can watch Karen and Matt snuggle against each other like some sort of…

**Wait for Santa starts here!!!**

The gigantic sign appears like a mirage in a desert. A bedraggled looking young man dressed as an elf is holding it, the bells on his hat jangling discordantly. His short blonde hair hangs limply in his face, and he has an exhausted expression on his face that speaks of the soul sucking nature of retail work during the holidays.

“So, uh…” Matt uncouples from Karen and approaches him.

“Kyle,” the elf retorts, clearly wanting to be referred to by his name.

“Yes, Kyle, can I ask, uh…”

“The current estimated wait for Santa is three hours,” Kyle tells them. The expression on his face clearly communicates that he thinks that they’re all idiots for waiting this long to get a Santa picture. And on a Friday night too? What are you, insane?

A woman holding a toddler dressed as a reindeer turns around from the back of the line. She holds out her phone, which is full of a stream of text messages. “My friend just texted me from the front, and said they were here five hours before they even got to Santa's Workshop! Stop lying to people!”

“The mall estimates the wait time, okay?” Kyle protests as several folks in the back of the line start to grumble and groan. “I can’t do anything about that!”

“Maybe we should just come back tomorrow,” Karen says to Matt. Foggy hopes that Matt will seriously consider it, because it seems like the crowd is going to get ugly as news spreads about the five hour wait time.

From the stroller, Ella gives an exaggerated yawn, her tiny limbs flailing. They’ve dressed her up in a black onesie with white leggings, and a green and red plaid pattern skirt pulled over that. Foggy also put a headband with a red bow on her, but she keeps pulling it off when they aren’t looking.

“To be honest, this probably won’t be any better tomorrow morning,” Kyle tells them. “Every day closer to Christmas it just gets worse.” He gives a tiny shudder, and Foggy wants to ask him if he’s okay. But Kyle just looks down into the carriage at Ella, and then he looks behind himself as if searching to see if there’s a manager around. He gestures at the three of them, and Foggy, Karen, and Matt all huddle around him to see what kind of secret information he's about to pass along.

“So the wait for Santa might be three hours, but there’s going to be a surprise show in about ten minutes if you want to see it. I’m told that it’s going to be awesome!”

Karen and Foggy exchange glances, and then look at Matt. “So,” he says, "if we wanted to get the best seats for this show, where exactly would we need to go?”

\---

Ten minutes later, they’re in the front of a balcony area overlooking the main floor of the shopping mall. There’s a wide, empty area on the main floor that's been blocked off, and which has a large Christmas tree with presents beneath it and some sort of stage and steps leading up to a metal ladder and scaffolding. It looks like it could possibly be set up for some particular purpose, but Kyle had been pretty vague about what this particular show might entail. Right now all Foggy can see are desperate shoppers, rushing around with heavy packages and screaming children. 

“Do you think we’ve been had?” Foggy asks.

But Matt is tilting his head in that peculiar way he does when he’s listening to something far off. A slow smile spreads across his face as he gives a genuine laugh. “No, I think we’re in the exact right place,” he says mysteriously.

Suddenly the lights go out for a second in the mall. It's just an instant, but it’s enough to make Foggy’s senses go into overdrive. His heart hammers erratically, but suddenly he feels a hand in his, and in the semi-darkness of the emergency lights he can make out Matt, standing next to him. The lights flicker and most of them come back on, although the brightest lights are focused on the wide open area that’s been marked off below. Clearly the three of them have the best seat in the house, and a great swath of other shoppers, realizing what’s going on, start to crowd around them as they try to secure a better view.

“Laaaaadies and gentlemen, we have a very special treat for you tonight! It’s Santa as you’ve never seen him before!!!”

There’s a loud bang and a puff of smoke, and from the center of the stage a pillar rises, with a man dressed as Santa on top of it. He's lit up in a spotlight, and he has on the stereotypical red suit and hat, along with a ridiculously fake looking white beard. “When did Santa start working out?” Karen chuckles. _He is a rather svelte Santa indeed,_ Foggy thinks, wondering what’s going on. Suddenly he starts doing odd movements, like a warm up to - oh!

Understanding dawns on him as the movements end in a series of fast paced kicks and punches. It's a martial arts warm up of some kind, and the person inside the Santa suit is starting to resemble someone that Foggy strongly suspects they all know rather well. Suddenly the figure jumps, clambering up the ladder and onto the metal scaffolding which runs up the wall alongside the bank of elevators. There are gasps and cheers from the crowd as he climbs higher and higher.

“Go Santa, go!” A boy who looks to be eight years old chants next to them. He's clenching his fists and almost dancing with anticipation.

Foggy turns to ask Matt if he knows what’s going on, but Matt whispers in his ear, “Just watch the show, Foggy.”

What Foggy is now dubbing "Kung Fu Santa" perches several floors up, hiding himself in the shadows. Down below the stage darkens a bit, and onto it creeps a figure dressed all in black. It’s clearly meant to be a burglar of some kind, wearing a stereotypical black ski mask that covers his face and carrying a big bag. He makes for the large Christmas tree in the center of the open space, cackling maniacally. 

“Oh no, it looks like a villain is trying to steal Christmas!” the announcer’s voice booms out. “What do you think kids, will Santa be able to save Christmas?”

“Santa, Santa, Santa!” A chant goes up from the crowd.

The boy near them is doing some play punches of his own, attacking the air and whirling around dramatically. “Get him, Santa!”

In a series of amazing tumbling moves, the very svelte Santa drops to the floor. The burglar turns, as if utterly startled, dropping his bag. He mimes as if he’s going to grab for a gun, but the Kung Fu Santa just kicks it out of his hand, and it goes spinning away from him. The crowd is cheering now, clearly thinking that the day has been won. But from out of the shadows come creeping shadow-like figures, totally surrounding the valiant superhero Santa.

That's when the burglar who had at first seemed very ordinary starts laughing, and a creepy voice booms from all around them: “Welcome to my trap, Santa Claus! I hope you like spending your Christmas six feet under!” He rips off the burglar mask, revealing a bizarre green mask that looks vaguely satanic. “Behold! I am the super villain, Heist Man, your ultimate foe, and you will never leave here alive!"

Foggy has no idea who this Heist Man guy is, but the kids sure seem to know him. The boy near them that was punching the air is now hissing and spitting, and several other children are yelling out his name.

The figures have now surrounded Santa, and he can tell that they're probably supposed to be ninjas, although they look pretty fake to him. One by one the ninjas rush at Santa, doing their best to take him out. But he just flips, ducks, and dodges their punches, keeping the crowd on the edge of their seat the entire time. "Santa, Santa, Santa!" And one by one, the fake looking ninjas are steadily defeated, leaving the villainous Heist Man alone. He's backing up the stage steps, retreating towards the Christmas tree.

Heist Man cackles, “You’ll never catch me, Santa!” With that, he pushes some sort of button and a cage springs up magically from the stage, trapping the Kung Fu Santa within it. “I’ve got you now, Santa! There's no way for you to escape!”

“Nooo,” wails a little girl near them, probably not more than six years old, and wearing a Santa hat herself. Her mother tries to quiet her down by shushing her and reminding her that it’s only a show.

“Not so fast!” A spotlight whips up near the second floor, and they can see a man illuminated. He’s wearing a yellow shirt and jeans, and he jumps down dramatically, landing and seemingly cracking the ground below him as the announcer's voice booms around them again: "Heist Man may have trapped the Santa Claus with the Iron Fist, but can he withstand the might of Santa's friend Powerman?" 

The crowd cheers, and Foggy looks at Matt as Luke Cage dramatically strides across the floor towards Heist Man. Obviously he had heard or sensed something that let him know that his friends were here and that they would be part of the show. Pulling up his fake gun which he's found on the floor, Heist Man tries to fire, again and again and again. Fake laser sounds ring out as red lights hit his chest. 

Luke reaches Heist Man, pulling the gun out of his hands and crumpling it up before grabbing him by the front of his shirt. “Don’t you know that I’m bulletproof, fool?” he demands.

The crowd goes wild at that as he bends the metal ladder into bonds, curving them around Heist Man so that he can't get out. Foggy isn't quite sure if it's fake metal or if Luke really is just bending it with his hands. Then he goes over to destroy the cage that the fake Santa is trapped in. Santa pulls off his hat and beard, revealing a smiling Danny Rand, his blond hair spilling out of the cap as he pulls it off.

A spotlight falls on both of them as the show starts to draw to a close.

“I told you, man,” Luke says to Danny, “we’re always more powerful when we team up!”

They give a very bro embrace to one another, and Danny takes over, his voice ringing out through the speakers: “And you know folks, we are always more powerful when we team up as a community! If you enjoyed this show, please think about donating to Rand Charities this year, we’re donating all of our money to funding programs for children and teens in the inner cities this year. We want to inspire them, and help them grow. I know it’s easy during this time of year to lose sight of what’s most important, but remember: We fight better when we fight together!”

A loud cheer goes up from the crowd, and Danny punches his fist in the air triumphantly.

“Hey, I didn’t know you guys were here.”

Claire slides herself through the crowd neatly as the regular lights start coming back on, the crowd gradually dispersing as they realize that the official show has ended. Now that the lights are back on, Foggy can more easily see Luke and Danny below. Danny’s hair seems to be suffering from some serious static cling, and his face is bright red with exertion. Luke seems to be laughing at him, and he swipes at him playfully with one hand, starting an impromptu sparring session that has the children just as enraptured as they were with the stage play.

“Yeah, it seems like everyone is out tonight,” Matt says, leaning against the stroller.

“Did you…” Claire looks at the stroller in confusion as most other shoppers walk away, and she realizes that no one else is coming forward to claim it. “Is this a stolen baby? Is that what you’re doing now, stealing babies?”

“Do I look like a baby stealer to you?” Matt asks her.

She gives him a dubious look. She’s looking festive in a form-fitting red sweater, jeans, and black boots. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Why don’t we take a walk to the food court, Foggy,” Karen suggests. “We can let them talk - ”

“Murdock!”

Luke’s voice rings out from below, and Foggy looks down below to see that Luke and Danny have caught sight of them and are waving. “We see you!” Danny chimes in, cupping his hands around his mouth to project his voice as if they won't be able to hear him now that the microphone has been turned off.

Matt grimaces at the total disregard for his anonymity. And Claire also shoots them a disapproving look, shaking her head at their ridiculous antics.

“Come to the green room!” Danny yells. “Colleen is there, and we have food!” A pause and then, even more loudly, he exclaims. “Is that a baby stroller?”

\----

  
“So what you’re saying is…” Danny pauses as if he can’t quite seem to put it all together.

“This is my baby,” Matt clarifies.

“But how… I mean… how did this happen?”

“Well, I think we all know how it happened,” Luke interjects. “Unless you need to go to a remedial facts of life class.”

Danny shoots him a dirty look. “But with Elektra? I mean, I thought she was…”

“A living dead person?” Claire says. "With no heartbeat? Who is also supposed to be dead and buried under Midland Circle?" She’s looking at Ella cradled in Matt’s arms, and the shock is clear on her face.

“So how is this even possible?” Luke asks.

Matt sighs for what feels like the thousandth time that day. “I don’t know how it’s possible, I just know that she’s here now, and that I have to do the best that I can.”

Claire reaches out to grasp Matt’s arm reassuringly, as if overcoming her shock. “That’s very admirable of you, Matt. We’ll help, if we can. You know that right? You can call us anytime.”

“I could probably use some help figuring out what to do about the fact that she doesn’t have a birth certificate,” he tells her seriously, and she nods.

“I’ve dealt with that situation before with some people at the hospital, we can get it sorted out,” she assures him.

Danny’s face is still nothing but a thousand question marks, but Luke just stares at him in a way that seems to shut down any further lines of inquiry. Colleen, who has been silent throughout the entire series of questions, comes over and smiles at the baby. “She looks a lot like Matt, actually,” she says.

“Does she?” Matt asks.

“I don’t know how you can tell who she looks like, she just seems all squished to me,” Danny states, “and red-faced.”

“She looks like you for sure,” Claire insists as Luke puts a hand over his face, clearly exasperated with Danny's behavior.

"It's her nose," Colleen says, putting a finger out to gently bop Ella as if emphasizing her point.

“Should we…” Karen pauses and seems to gather her courage. “Should we have her tested? I mean, just in case. To makes sure that she's really Matt's daughter.” Matt frowns at her, clutching Ella closer. “I mean, we just want to be sure, right?”

Claire nods again, as if approving of what Karen is saying. “We can do that at the hospital. And I agree that it’s a good idea." She walks back over to Luke, and he puts his arm around her. Foggy is looking at Matt though, who appears supremely unhappy about their suggestion. 

“She smells like me,” Matt says, as if that's supposed to make sense to any of them.

“Come again now?” Luke asks him, seeming to speak for the room at large.

“Everyone has a smell to them, like… a brand of some kind. And people who are related tend to smell similar. And Ella… she smells like me.”

“You know, I realize that I learned Kung Fu in a mystical kingdom, but when he says stuff like that I still can’t help but wonder what kind of weird crowd I’ve fallen into,” Danny says. Luke helpfully elbows him in the ribs in response.

“We can do all the tests that you want,” Matt tells Karen. “But I know that she’s mine.”

“Okay,” she says, reaching out to gently touch his arm. Matt’s body language is tense, his arms curled around Ella as if shielding her. “I believe you, Matt. I just think that we should make sure.”

Foggy knows that look on Matt’s face though - stubborn and obstinate as an ox. So even though he nods as if he's agreeing, when he says that he needs a moment to use the restroom, Foggy knows him well enough to know that someone should follow him. Matt leaves Ella with Colleen, who holds her lightly, as if she’s afraid she’s made of spun glass and she's afraid of hurting her. Danny had referred to the room they're all standing in as the “green room,” but it's really just a private staff room in the back end maze of the mall.

He knows that Matt must be aware that he’s trailing him, but he doesn’t say anything or try to deter him. And when he walks into the bathroom, he finds it empty except for Matt, who is leaning on the sink with both hands.

“You aren’t going to be sick, are you?” Foggy asks him.

“I’m fine, Foggy,” Matt shoots back. “I just wanted to be alone for a second. Crowds like this are hard for me, you know.”

He steps closer to Matt, resisting the urge to reach out and hug him. “You’re worried that they’re going to find something if they run blood scans on Ella. Not that she’s not related to you,” he says, running roughshod over Matt’s protest. “You’re worried that they’re going to find something else, something abnormal or... “ he can’t figure out what the right word is here. “Or super ordinary.”

“Sometimes I wish that you didn’t know me so well,” Matt says, relaxing his pose and running a hand through his hair.

“Bullshit, you liar,” Foggy retorts, leaning back against the counter top. “I know you like the back of my hand, and you love me for it."  

Matt throws his head back as if his the burst of laughter that comes out of him has taken him by surprise. He turns and leans back against the counter top as well, mirroring Foggy's pose. “Elektra and I, we both have... abilities. Stick called us adepts. He said that we were the only two born in our generation, actually." The bathroom lights make his red glasses almost opaque, casting a reddish hue over his face. He’s always wondered if Matt realizes that his glasses give him an otherworldly air at times. Then again, maybe that’s why he wears them. “I never got a chance to ask him if it was….”

“Heritable?” Foggy finishes.

“A fancy word for being screwed out of a normal life.” Matt's response comes out dry and bitter.

“Haven’t you ever heard of the phrase ‘don’t borrow trouble,’ Murdock?”

The question is rhetorical, and both of them know it. If there's any trouble, it usually tends to find Matt, rather than the other way around.

“If there’s an issue, we can cross that bridge when we come to it,” Foggy continues. “The way that I see it, you and Elektra were mostly on your own, so Ella has one huge advantage when it comes to dealing with all of this. And that advantage is you.”

Matt scoffs at that, but Foggy nudges him with his shoulder. “Come on, we should get back. We both know how much Danny can eat when he’s hungry.”

“His true super power,” Matt replies sagely, and they both head back to rejoin the others.

\---

They return to witness Danny shoving pizza slice after pizza slice into his mouth while everyone else looks on in disgust. “How do you not weigh twelve hundred pounds?” Claire demands.

“I burn it up when I access my chi,” Danny tells her, blithely shoving another pizza slice in.

Claire shakes her head in disgust, “That’s so non-scientific.”

When Matt comes over to see how Ella is doing, Colleen just smiles up at him happily. Clearly her and Ella are bonding, and she shyly asks if she can keep holding her. So Matt and Foggy settle down to eat some pizza and bread sticks, which are still miraculously warm and gooey.

“So are we still going to try to get that picture?” Karen asks. She’s fiddling with her necklace again as if she’s thinking about something, running her fingers up and down the chain over and over again.

“What picture?” Luke asks them.

“Yeh, whu pichture?” Danny echoes, and a chorus of “Chew your food” goes up.

“The whole reason we came here was to try and get a picture with Santa,” Foggy tells them, “But the wait time was three hours. Or five, depending on who you asked.”

A message on the loudspeaker comes on, calmly informing them that the mall will be closing in fifteen minutes.

“Guess we’re going to have to come back tomorrow,” Matt says.

“I can get you a Santa picture!” Danny exclaims. “Rand Enterprises has a great relationship with the owner of the mall, how do you think we got them to agree to that stage play anyway?” He gets up, using a napkin to clean off his hands before bounding excitedly into the hallway.

“Does he ever remind anyone else of a golden retriever, or is just me?” Claire asks.

Danny returns moments later tugging a woman with a prim bun of brown hair and a gray business suit along with him. She has a clipboard with her, and a frazzled expression on her face. “They said that we can do it, but that we have to hurry!”

They’re on their feet in moments, Colleen transferring Ella to Matt, and Foggy taking charge of the stroller. Karen follows hot on their heels, and at the last minute Colleen also decides that she wants to follow along. Claire and Luke call out after them that they’ll meet up at the far doors on the north end when they're done, and then they’re led through a warren of strange hallways. It seems like they’re going deeper and deeper into the bowels of the mall.

Suddenly, they come to a small unassuming looking door, which the woman in the business suit opens and ushers them through. They emerge into what seems like a winter wonderland, with twinkle lights and snowflake decorations hanging from the ceiling. “Welcome to Santa’s workshop,” she tells them proudly. Every inch of the place seems to be bedazzled with Christmas decorations, most of them shaped like some sort of candy. There are gigantic peppermint sticks, gooey gumdrops, and enormous ginger bread men, along with huge inflatable decorations that look like penguins. And of course the obligatory ten million Christmas trees and tinsel.

“Ho, ho, ho!”

And there’s Santa himself, and a small girl with pigtails hops off his lap, and the woman gestures that they can go in for their turn.

“And who do we have here?” Santa asks as Matt holds out Ella. This Santa is round, with a large belly, and a beard that definitely doesn't look fake. 

“Her name is Ella," Matt tells him.

“Oh, Ella, what a special name. I think she might be too small to tell me her Christmas wishes, but I’m quite sure that my elves will know what to do all the same!”

The picture is over in the blink of an eye: the camera flashes, Santa laughs again, and then they’re being ushered out again. The picture shows a smushed Ella, and a red-faced Santa Claus. Foggy feels somehow triumphant over it all the same, and he grins at Matt, who is smiling back at him as if they've just won the most important court case of their lives.

They meet up with the others at the far north side doors as they planned, and Danny insists on shoving his camera phone into the hands of the woman who arranged the Santa photo for them. “Come on,” he urges, “I want a picture!”

“We’re missing someone though,” Matt protests, thinking of Jessica. He isn't sure what the protocol for new babies is, does he have to call everyone that he knows? Should he send them a card in the mail? A message on Facebook?

“Then we’ll take another photo with her too!” Danny insists. "We should do stuff like this more often."

“Just take the photo,” Foggy leans over to tell Matt, because he's still trying to argue his point that it isn't right to take a photo without all of them there. “It’ll be faster, and then we can get out of here. Besides, we owe him for helping us get that Santa photo.”

They all huddle together, Danny pulling out his Santa hat and shoving it onto Ella’s head at the last moment.

\----

It actually comes out as a better photo than the actual Santa photo that they took, and Foggy can't resist texting them both to his mother later on when they're relaxing in Matt's apartment and sitting on the couch. Foggy is watching The Muppet Christmas Carol, and giving commentary on what's happening to Matt, although he hardly needs it since they've watched this movie together so many times before. His mother sends him back a message that is mostly hearts, exclamation marks, and finally one winky face that he isn't quite sure how to interpret.

"Why is your phone going off so much?" Matt asks him.

"I sent my mother the Santa photos, and she's losing her mind over them."

"You don't think..." he pauses, wondering if what he's about to ask is too much.

"What?" Foggy pauses the tv so that he can focus on what Matt is saying.

"Do you think she would want to watch Ella sometimes while we're at work? I know it's a lot to ask, but I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to trust her with a total stranger."

"I can definitely ask her."

"And we're going to see them on Christmas Day, right?"

"I don't think there's any escaping the annual Nelson family holiday party, Matt. I'm sure we're going to get all sorts of fun questions, so we might want to think up some clever responses."

"I was just going to tell them all that I've turned into a professional baby stealer."

Foggy just shakes his head and turns the movie back on, wondering if it's too late in the evening to make popcorn. And if they both wind up falling asleep on the couch together, well who's the wiser, because there's nobody else there but them and Ella.


	9. Frank Castle and the Very Unexpected Road Trip to Fagan’s Corners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karen takes a trip to Fagan's Corners, and Frank winds up along for the ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter the rating is going up from Teen to Explicit, and it'll be Christmas Eve from Matt's perspective! It might not be headed your way until Saturday, 12/22, but I'm hoping to have the first arc of this fic done and up in real time for actual holiday events in 2018. Also, maybe an epilogue about New Years? Who knows, let me know what your thoughts are below. As always, thanks for reading!

Friday night Karen tosses and turns, unable to truly fall asleep. She feels haunted and restless, and by the time 6 am rolls around, she’s ready to throw in the towel. So she gets out of bed, shivering as the cold air of her apartment hits her. She's wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms, but it still feels frigid in her apartment so she immediately turns the heat up. Then she starts up the coffee pot, finding the familiar motions soothing to her dark state of mind. It’s almost like a ritual: measuring out the water precisely, opening the coffee bag and breathing the smell of it in, putting the coffee grinds in the filter, pushing brew. And then the gurgling sound of it starting up, the pleasant aroma of fresh coffee filling up her whole apartment.

She stumbles into the shower, turning the heat up almost as high it will go. The hot water hits her aching muscles, and it feels like a pleasant massage. She doesn’t get dressed right away afterwards, just pours herself a cup of coffee and stares vacantly out her window at the city spread below. She wonders what Matt and Foggy are doing right now, if Ella is the type of infant who wakes up all the time, or if they’re still pleasantly cuddled up in bed, warm and safe and sleeping. Unbidden, the image of the two of them safe and sleeping in the same bed comes to her, but she shakes head, telling herself that she's being ridiculous.

There’s something going on between the two of them, but she can’t quite put her finger on precisely what. If she was forced to formulate an answer, she would have to say that she thinks that Foggy and Matt like each other - but if they’ve been friends for so long, why wouldn’t someone have acted on it yet? She always thought of them as friends, but some of the things that she’s witnessed lately, like Foggy blushing when Matt came into the office yesterday, and also him giving her demon eyes when she put her arm around him at the mall are calling into question everything that she thought that she knew about the two of them.

She breathes the smell of the coffee in deeply, memories of working at her mother’s diner rising up in her mind. Sometimes she feels like she spent her whole childhood there, lurking under the foot stools, coloring and playing secret games. And always, always there was the smell of coffee. It pulls her back and anchors her, just like the hot shower did.

And then and there, she makes a decision. Setting down the cup, she walks into her bedroom and starts to dress rapidly: nothing fancy, just jeans and a loose blue sweater with a pattern of false pearls sewn down the arms. Her hair is still wet, but it can dry on the way. She rings it out a bit more with a towel, and then she pops it into a messy bun. She hesitates for a moment before putting back on the necklace that Frank gave her. She’s worn it every day since that night - it’s just too beautiful to be put away and hidden in a drawer.

She also grabs her puffy black coat. She rarely wears it, but if she gets caught on the freeway in a snowstorm or if her car breaks down, she knows that she'll be glad that she brought it. She pours her coffee into a to-go cup, and switches the machine itself off. Into her purse she quickly throws some essential toiletries and extra underwear. Then she’s grabbing her car keys, and walking out of her building before she quite realizes what she’s doing. She pauses and stops then, whirling back around and walking straight back to her building. She paces around the lobby for several long minutes, wondering if she’s temporarily lost her mind. 

Closing her eyes for a moment, she tries to center herself. Yes, she can do this. And yes, she wants to do this. Reaffirming her belief in what she wants to do, she walks confidently back outside to the parking lot and garage, which are just outside the building past some bushes. She throws her bag and coat in the back, on top of the blankets she keeps back there - also in case she has a break down in the middle of the winter.

Her ancient car starts up with a loud roar. She doesn’t drive it much in the city, and with all the miles that it has on it, she’s starting to worry that it isn’t going to live much longer. But she has roadside assistance if she really needs it, compliments of her insurance plan. And she has a phone full of music that she can listen to if she uses a tape deck, and a full coffee mug. She plugs her phone in and opens maps, typing in: Penny’s Diner, Fagan’s Corners, Vermont. It beeps at her as it loads, telling her that the trip will take roughly 4.5 hours one way.

She’s tempted to recite the mantra her father always used to jokingly say before they started on any car trip: _It's 106 miles to Chicago. We got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark, and we're wearing sunglasses. Hit it._

Instead, she pulls up her favorite playlist on her phone, hits start, and pulls out of the garage.

\---

It’s only been 45 minutes, and she already feels exhausted. She’s turned the hot air off because it’s making her feel sleepy, and she’s singing along to her playlist, belting the words of a popular musical out to try and keep awake. She’s already consumed all of her coffee from her mug, and she’s contemplating stopping soon for more. And also because she really, really has to go pee.

She blinks, the road in front of her getting fuzzy. Maybe she really should…

“You know, if you can’t drive straight, you might consider pulling off the road to take a break.”

She can’t help it, she just reacts, screaming and tilting the wheel to the right. A hand behind her reaches out, straightening the wheel as a gigantic truck blasts the horn at them. The car winds up in the median, and she slams on the brakes, whirling around and coming face-to-face with Frank Castle. She doesn’t stop to think _Hey, this is the Punisher, and I should probably be afraid because he just popped up from under some blankets in the back of my car,_ she just starts hitting him. Images of the car wreck with her brother flash through her mind as she screams.

Her punches are lackluster and ineffective though, and Frank pushes himself through the gap between the two front seats to sit in the passenger side. He wraps his arms around her, forcing her to stop hitting him. She’s gasping for air from all of the exertion and the shock of nearly driving off of the road.

“Okay,” he says calmly. “Here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to let go of you, and you are going to stop hitting me. Then I’m going to come over to that side, and I’m going to take over the driving for a bit.”

She pulls back, and if looks could kill he would have been dead as a door nail. “You scared the shit out of me!” And she hits him one last time in his chest for emphasis. It’s a bit like hitting a brick wall, and her hands hurt, but she feels strangely better after all the screaming and punching.

“Yeah well I’m sorry, and I clearly shouldn’t have done that. But any moment now a cop car is going to come along, wondering what we’re doing pulled over to the side of the road like this. And when they get one good look at me, they’re going to have an awful lot of questions that I really don’t feel like answering today.” He raises his eyebrows at her. “And they’ll probably have a lot of questions for you too, about what exactly someone like me is doing in the backseat of your car."

She rolls her eyes at him, and he seems to take that as acquiescence, climbing out of his side and walking around the front of the car. She climbs over the cup holders and settles into the passenger side, putting her seat belt back on. Frank gets into the driver’s seat, pulling smoothly back out into traffic. He’s looking in the rear view mirror, probably checking to see if they’re being trailed by any State Troopers.

A few moments later, he settles back into the seat, apparently satisfied. He looks down at the radio speakers, which are still blasting the newest musical that Karen has fallen in love with. “Interesting choice in music,” he says, as if nothing whatsoever has happened. As if they didn’t just almost die on the Interstate.

“What are you doing in my car, Frank,” she asks, glaring at him. A second ago she was falling asleep, but there’s nothing like a little near-death experience to wake you up.

“Okay, now that I can explain,” he says, in a way that makes her think that everything that follows is going to be total bullshit. “I was coming by your building this morning, just wanted to see how you were doing - you know, if you were going to Red’s for Christmas with your friends like you… uh…”

She’s giving him a serious side eye, and he realizes his mistake and tries to cover up for it.

“I mean, not that I’ve been following you, just…”

“You’ve been following me.” She gives him her best no-nonsense stare.

“Keeping an eye on you,” Frank says, as if this is a totally normal thing to do. “Just in case. I mean, it’s not like it hasn’t come in handy before!”

Flashing back to the situation with Lewis, Karen can't help but shudder and mentally agree with him. “If that's true then where were you when Fisk was on his rampage? I don't know if you heard, but I was nearly murdered by a super powered lunatic in a church. Someone wearing a fake Daredevil costume? Any of this sounding familiar?"

He grits his teeth as if he's in pain. "That is a particularly long story, and sharing it with you is probably not a good idea right now, based on the people who were involved. Trust me when I say that if I could have been there, I would have taken that asshole's head off." 

Something in the way that he says _the people who were involved_ makes her think that he means someone he has a personal vendetta against, so she decides to drop the subject and go back to her original question: "So you were following me this morning then?”

“No, I was just dropping by...”

“At six in the morning?”

“Can I finish my story, please?”

She just rolls her eyes again and doesn’t respond, and he hurries on. “So I saw you come out of your building, and I also saw that you had your car keys." He gives a noncommittal shrug. "I figured maybe you were going to the store or something, and then you went back in the building for a minute, so I seized my opportunity. This car doesn't lock very well, as you already know. And you also ought to know that you should be more careful about checking your backseat when you get in.”

She can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. “So you just hopped in? As what, a practical joke?”

“Something like that,” Frank’s eyes dart back and forth across traffic as he shifts lanes to go around another large truck. “Although apparently the jokes on me now, because you didn’t go to the store, did you? We’re going to…” He looks down at her phone and the map that’s still open. “Vermont?” He stares at her. “What the hell is in Vermont?”

“I thought you knew everything about me, Frank,” Karen says, pulling her knees up to her chin and huddling in on herself. He’s silent, apparently waiting for an answer. “I have family there.”

“That’s a long trip. You planning on staying for Christmas?”

She buries her head between her knees, not wanting to look up at the dizzying traffic any longer. “No, I was going to drive back tonight.”

“Tonight?!”

“Or tomorrow morning, if I could find a motel or something.”

“That’s a long way to go just for a few hours. Something wrong? Your mother, is she…”

He pauses when he looks over at her, as if realizing that he’s put his foot in something that’s best left alone.

“We can just listen to music if you want,” he says, his voice soft. “And I can drive. I’ll make sure you get there and back safely.”

There’s a few tears welling up in her eyes, and she surreptitiously wipes them away using the edge of her sweater. “I could use some more coffee.”

“Coming right up... I don't know if you drive this way often, but there’s a station up here on the right. I used to go for these long drives with some of my buddies, you know, just to get the hell out of the city every so often. We can stop there, they know how to make a real cup of Joe. It'll knock your socks off.”

She knows that he's trying to be nice, probably to apologize for scaring her, and also for creepily hiding in her car when she didn't know that he was there. But she's feeling tired and worn out, and so she just looks out the window at the passing scenery and doesn't answer. She doesn’t look at him either, because she doesn't want to see what kind of expression he has on his face. She doesn't want to know if he pities her or if he’s putting together that her life might be just as messed up as his is. She knows that he’s already probably more than aware of some her backstory, but she also knows that he doesn’t know everything yet. And she wants to hang on to that for just a little while longer.

\---

The sweet smell of cookies baking in the oven fills the air, and she’s walking or maybe floating, going down.... down the stairs, and into the kitchen, where it's hot and warm and smells like home. Her mother is there when she enters, wearing a green apron and a red dress. She’s icing the cookies, some of them look like candy canes, others like snowmen. There are even Santa Claus cookies, with fake stick on eyes, and reindeer cookies with red hots as the nose.

“Well there you are, sleepy head,” she says, turning around.

There’s a soft light glowing around her, illuminating her head like a halo. She's smiling at her, and her blonde hair is piled on her head in a sloppy bun. There's also flour on her cheek, and all over the apron that she's wearing.

“I thought you were going to sleep the whole day away,” her mother says, wiping her hands on her apron before coming over to her, and wrapping her arms around her. She smells sweet and soothing, like the Lancome body lotion that she wears every day. “Merry Christmas, Karen. I love you so much, and I miss you. Every single day, I miss you. I just want you to remember, remember me...”

\---

Someone is gently shaking her, and she wakes with a start.

"Whoa, there,” Frank says, and she realizes that she’s holding onto both of his arms. She lets go of him, her hands sliding over his body to drop limply back onto the car seat. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah." She pushes some of her hair back from her face, feeling like there’s a layer of dust and crud clinging to her after such a long amount of time spent in the car. “Wait, are we - ” She looks out the window and there it is, looming at her. She had once described the diner as indestructible, and sure enough, there it is - Penny’s Diner.

“Yeah, we’re here,” Frank tells her. She sucks in a deep, shaky breath, realizing that she must have slept the whole way after they got that last coffee. Her music is off, and the car is a bubble of quiet. Frank puts a hand on her arm softly, and she looks at him. There's something so empathetic and caring in his eyes that it attracts her like a magnet. So often it feels like she just can't look away from him, and she isn't quite sure what that means.  

"We don’t have to go in, if you don’t want to,” he tells her. “We could turn right back around, and go back to New York. Hell, we could go to Canada. I mean, getting over the border with no passport might be an issue, but I’m sure I could work something out.”

“You don’t even know what’s really waiting in there,” she says. She runs a nervous hand over her clothing, trying to smooth out the wrinkles in her sweater. She feels grungy, like she should have worn something nicer.

“You're as pale as a bowl of milk, so I'm figuring that this isn’t exactly Disneyland for you.” Half of his mouth quirks up into an unsure smile.

“This was my mother’s diner.” She stops, not wanting to continue. But it isn’t right to take him in there without disclosing the truth of it all.

“Was, huh,” Frank says. He ducks his head down to peer beneath the rear view mirror to give the diner a better look.

“She died, uh, before I left for college. I didn’t... I didn’t handle it so well.”

“Before college?” he asks, scoffing at her statement. “Then you were just a kid. Did your old man take care of you?”

Her eyes feel like they’re filling with tears, and she just shakes her head.

“Okay, that’s it,” he says, “get out.”

With that, he opens the car door, slamming it behind himself. She starts to open her door, but he’s already there, holding it open. When she stands up on unsteady feet, he wraps her up in his arms in a bone crushing hug. She folds herself into the warmth of him, and sucks in a breath. He smells like a man recently out of the shower, all clean skin and aftershave, and there's something underneath it all. Something sharp and metallic, like the cleaner you use for a gun. Underneath his clothes, in fact, where her hands are pressing against his body, she can feel the press of a gun that he has concealed at his waistband. Maybe it should bother her more, all the violent things that he's done. But all she feels with Frank is safe.

“Whatever did or didn’t happen here,” he tells her, pulling back to cup her face in his hands and stare into her eyes. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“But - ”

“Yeah, you and the altar boy both. Guilt complexes. You were a child, Karen. And parents take care of their children, no matter how much they fuck up. And it’s clear to me that that didn’t happen here. But you listen, and you listen closely, because I’m only going to say it once: This. Was. Not. Your. Fault.”

She embraces him again, expecting a wild fall of tears is going to start at any moment. But somehow the tears never arrive. She just keeps breathing him in, feeling something broken and fractured in her heart stopper up. It’s not healed - there’s still a gaping chasm where her mother’s presence once was. And there’s a fracture line going straight down to her foundation. But she no longer feels like she’s actively bleeding out emotionally.

She nearly falls over from relief, but he’s holding her up even though her knees are weak. She hears the sound of tires on the gravel drive of the diner, letting go of Frank to see a cop car pulling in. Perfect, just what they need.

Frank lets go of her, turning so that he’s nearly blocking her from the view of the police officer. She’s expecting Chief Bernie, old and craggy and unkillable, just like the diner. But shock pounds in her heart as an all too familiar face appears instead.

“Todd!” she exclaims, shoving herself around Frank to walk towards him. If nothing else, she can distract Todd from getting a good look at him. “What in the hell are you doing…”

“Karen?” He stares at her in clear disbelief. “Is that you?” He’s cut his hair regulation short, and he’s wearing a cleanly pressed police officer’s uniform. He’s even wearing a hat with a wide brim that shades his eyes.

Frank grabs her arm, stopping her from getting any closer. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I uh…” Her voice shorts out on her as her face heats up. What exactly should she say about him to Frank?

His eyes flicker as understanding dawns. “Ah, I see. Old flame?”

She’s irritated at how perceptive he is, and jerks her arm away from his.

“Everything okay here?” Todd asks, walking closer. 

He's eyeing both of them with suspicion and the irony of it all is just too much for her, and she rolls her eyes at him. “We’re doing great, Todd. So, you’re the sheriff now, huh?”

“Since a few years back,” he replies, clearly proud of himself. He rocks a bit on his feet, putting his hands on his belt. She can't help but notice that keeps them close to his gun. “So what are you doing here, Karen? And who’s your friend?”

“I was hoping to see my dad.” The wind is cold and sharp, and she wishes that she had put on her coat when she got out of the car. “Christmas time, you know.”

Todd looks meaningfully over at Frank, who pushes past Karen to forcefully shake Todd’s hand, invading his space and towering over him. “Pete,” he says, “Pete Castiglione, very nice to meet you…” He's still shaking Todd's hand, and from the wince on his Todd's face, he's using his powerful grip to press down as hard as he can.

“Todd, Todd Neiman. Sheriff around here. Got a call from the waitress in the diner, said there was a car out here she didn’t recognize. Gotta check it out, you know? Can’t be too careful these days.”

“Oh yeah, I know,” Frank laughs, and slaps Todd on the back. Todd’s eyes widen almost comically as his hand makes contact. Karen bites back a laugh at how easily Frank has turned from his usual serious self into some light hearted jackass. He makes it all look like he just doesn't know what he's doing, how forceful he's being. He has a strange way of always claiming the upper hand in any given situation, no matter how dark or dire it is. And it’s clear that Todd is uncomfortable, but there’s zero he can say or do about it without being totally emasculated. “Good to know there’s someone out there looking out for the fine folks of Fagan Corners, Todd. I mean, I’m just in construction myself, but you guys, you’re the real heroes.”

He draws back, walking over to Karen and putting his arm around her. “Why didn’t you tell me that your ex boyfriend was a police officer, honey?”

There’s something sharp in his eyes, and she gives him a harsh look back. “Because I didn’t know, baby.” There’s something hysterical about calling Frank Castle ‘baby,’ and she can see by the upturn of his mouth that he’s amused by it as well.

“So the two of you...” Todd pauses, gesturing back and forth between them.

“Oh, Karen and I have been together for ages,” Frank replies. He pulls her towards him in a side hug. “Just dating you know, living together. Although come New Years, we might have some amazing news to share, depending on what her answer is!”

_Laying it on a little thick, don’t you think?_ She forces herself to smile, trying to relax and just go with the lie. It’s clear that Todd hasn’t recognized Frank yet. The beard and hair are generally enough to throw people off, but she doesn’t want him looking too closely behind his falsely cheerful persona to the truth that lies beneath.

“So my father isn’t here then,” she asks, trying to redirect the flow of conversation.

Todd looks over at her, a frown creasing his brow. “Paxton? Ah, hell no. You haven’t heard?”

Her stomach drops. “No, I haven’t heard from him in awhile.”

He shuffles his feet, kicking at the gravel like he’s suddenly been transformed back into that insecure teenage boy that he was years ago.

“Can you just tell me?” she urges him. All this waiting is killing her, she just wants to know how bad it is and then formulate some sort of plan based on that.

He takes his hat off, and holds it in his hands. “He’s uh… he’s at County General, Karen. They took him there a few days ago, something about water in his heart.”

_Heart failure,_ she thinks with a pang. “Is it serious?”

“I don’t think they know yet.”

She looks away from him, accidentally catching Frank’s eye. “Do you want to go over there?” he asks.

“I can give y’all a ride if you want,” Todd throws in, clearly trying to be helpful.

Frank frowns, and she knows that the absolute last place he wants to be is in the back of a police cruiser. “I know where it is, thanks,” she replies, opening the car door.

“You should at least try the diner food before you go!” Todd says. He walks forward, closing the distance between them and gesturing at the diner with his hat.

She looks up at it, wondering what exactly what he means. The food has to be the same as when she lived and worked here. What could have changed about it in the years that she's been gone?

“It’s just miraculous how this place turned around,” he natters on, “the pie is just to die for! He’s got that recipe perfected, that’s for damn sure.”

Karen turns back to stare at him in confusion. She thought that recipe had been lost...

Todd is walking up to the diner, gesturing wildly at them to follow. Frank looks at her, clearly indicating that he's going to follow her lead. She nods at him, sticks the hands in the front pockets of her jeans, and ambles up the steps.

\---

Inside it’s as if nothing and everything has changed at once. Nothing has been removed or done away with, but it’s clear that everything has been thoroughly cleaned and given a second life. Fresh paint glistens on the lintel, and the metal on the bar stools gleams. Even the counter tops seem to be shining with fresh polish.

A waitress in an old fashioned uniform with a tiny skirt and frilly apron greets them when they walk in. “Hi, Todd!” she calls out to him as soon as she sees him, giving him a toothy grin.

Frank looks Karen up and down before asking in a low voice: "You didn't wear a uniform like that, did you?"

She slaps him playfully, trying to imagine her father asking her to wear something like that. She definitely would have given him an earful if he had ever tried.

“Hey, Mary Lou,” he says, plopping his hat down on the counter top. “Got a surprise guest with me today. It’s Paxton’s daughter, Karen!”

“Oh...” Her cornflower blue eyes flicker up and down, taking Karen in before glancing over at Frank. She does a double take, and Karen isn’t sure if she’s recognized him or is just awed by how handsome is. “Well, welcome!” she says eventually. “Sit down, sit down! I thought Paxton’s daughter lived in New York City...”

She bustles back behind the counter, getting them all coffee with an ease and rapidity that speaks of a long time working in food service.

“I do,” Karen says, sliding onto a bar stool next to Todd. Frank sits on her other side, accepting the coffee with a grateful smile at Mary Lou, who honest-to-God blushes at him.

“And y’all made that whole drive up here to see Paxton? Of course, it must be because of his heart. Such a sad situation, although we ain’t heard much yet.” She flips open an order book, and asks what they would like. She puts the filled out form on a spinner, dinging a bell. A young man who looks heartbreakingly like Kevin comes to the window and takes it from her.

“Hey, Joe, you’ll never guess who we’re serving!” Mary Lou laughs. “It’s Paxton’s daughter!”

Joe gives them all a wide-eyed stare, and then retreats back to the kitchen. Mary Lou rejoins them all, sighing as she says, “Don’t mind him, he doesn’t talk much, but Paxton loves him like…”

She stops talking but the words _like his own son_ hang in the air anyway, suffocating them all.

“Food should be up real soon," she assures them, "On the house too!” She bustles into the back, probably to gossip with Joe. “Paxton’s daughter! Can’t believe it...”

This leaves Karen and Frank alone with Sheriff Neiman, who leans back a bit, taking in Frank’s general size and fitness. “Sooo...” he say, drawing the word out purposefully. “Construction, huh?” It’s clear that he doesn’t quite believe it, but Frank and Karen are saved from having to respond by the reappearance of Mary Lou, who is carrying three plates. Two are balanced precariously on one outstretched arm like a juggling act.

“Here you go! Your mamma’s famous pie recipe.”

Karen stares down at the slice that’s set before her. The blueberries are slowly sliding out from under the crust as it cools off. She will always remember her mother as a master baker. Her father was the chef of the family, and Kevin took that part over later on. But her mother made miraculous cookies, and her blueberry pie was a County Fair winner ten years running. The recipe was supposedly lost after she died, and her father said that he could never find it. But apparently he had found it.... Why hadn't he told her?

“Go on, taste it!” Mary Lou urges her. “It’s what put Penny’s Diner on the map, for sure. And it saved Paxton from going under from what I hear.”

Karen raises the fork to her mouth, and it seems as if everyone is holding their breath and watching her to see what her reaction is. As she tastes it, the flavors explode on her tongue. Her mind ricochets between hundreds of memories: sitting with her mother on the back porch, feet up in the summertime, relaxing and eating pie with ice cream. Gossiping with her mother over a plate late at night while talking about what boy she’s going to take to the fall Homecoming dance. Eating it as comfort food after that same boy broke up with her days later.

Tears are slipping from her eyes, falling fast now. Frank’s arms are around her, and Mary Lou has scuttled off at the look on his face. Todd excuses himself to the bathroom, and he doesn’t come back for a long while. Joe wisely keeps to himself in the kitchen. And Karen just cries while Frank holds her.

\---

County General is a dingy hospital, and the facilities are beyond antiquated. But it’s still clean in spite of that, and the smell of antiseptics hang strong in the air as Karen and Frank enter the automatic doors and walk inside. She can’t help but think of the first time that she saw Frank, a dark figure against the white backdrop of a hospital hallway, carrying an enormous and terrifying rifle. She remembers running in blind terror, Grotto’s breathing harsh next to her. Strange how he’s become one of the most constant figures in her life. Steady and reliable. Not exactly the words the media would use to talk about Frank Castle, but then again, when have they ever been right about anything?

She’s running her hands up and down the chain of her necklace again, and Frank smiles as he catches her doing it. “I’m glad that you like it,” he says, and she can feel herself blushing.

They ask an attendant at the front desk for Paxton. After a bit of wheedling on Frank’s part, and after they show her Karen’s ID to prove that she’s his daughter (or at least shares the same last name), she finally agrees to give out his room number. She calls his extension to try and tell him that he has visitors, but there’s no response. It seems like she's trying to juggle twenty things at once: a steady stream of visitors, doctors rushing by and needing this or that, and other duties like paperwork and phone calls.

So she gives up on buzzing him, waving her hands around in disgust: “If you want to go deal with that cranky ass, do it,” she tells them.

Frank raises an eyebrow at Karen, who shrugs.

Her heart hammers as they ride the elevator up to the fifth floor. Walking down the hallway, she starts to feel almost like she’s gasping for air, as if the floor is tilting at a strange angle and she's going to fall off the known map of the world. She feels Frank’s arm on her elbow as he steadies her, and his voice again telling her that she doesn’t have to do this. She shakes him off, walking straight for room 505. The door is open, and all she has to do at that point is walk in.

It feels like it should have been more difficult. After all these years of estrangement and the lingering pain that still lies between them, all she has to do is walk through an open door in a hospital? It's almost farcical. She feels like she should have had to fight harder for it. But there he is, sitting upright in bed, wearing a ridiculous hospital gown with a back that’s half open. He doesn’t look up as they come in, apparently too interested in the food he’s swishing around on a hospital plate. The television in the room is on and blaring.

“Are you here to give me some real food?” he demands, looking up. He clearly expects to see a nurse, and there instead is the daughter who he hasn’t seen for ten years, just standing there looking pale as a ghost. It seems like Frank intends to stay in the hallway, probably trying to give her the space that she needs for whatever it is that she intends to do. The only trouble is that she has no clear intentions. She isn’t even quite sure why she came back to Fagan's Corners. She just felt compelled to do it, but to serve what larger purpose she still isn't sure. I mean, she didn’t even know that he was sick! God, he could have died, and she wouldn’t have even known....

There are tears running down her face again, and she swipes at them with her sweater cuff. It’s going to be filthy by the time she gets home again.

Home, what a strange word. This was supposed to be home, Fagan’s Corners. But now here her father is, and he looks like a stranger after so long. Just an aging man complaining about bad hospital food, tired and worn out after a hard life. And home… She thinks of the office of Nelson and Murdock, she thinks of Foggy’s bad jokes, and Matt’s face when something truly funny happens and he gives a full bodied laugh. She thinks of her office at the Bulletin, and she sees the face of Ben Urich's widow at his funeral, telling her that he would have been proud of her.

She can see the edge of one of Frank’s boots, just poking in the doorway as he leans against the wall outside. Just reminding her that he's there. She thinks of the weight of him pressing her down to shield her from the bullets flying overhead, the fierce way he has always protected her with his own body. She thinks of him directing her to cut the wire that would defuse Lewis’s bomb, and she thinks of the wild look in his eyes when he thought that something might happen to her. She thinks of how he looked at her in the elevator afterwards, so close and yet still so far away from her. And she hears the words in her mind, "I will come for you." 

“Dad,” she hears herself saying, and her voice sounds tinny and odd, as if she's hearing it from a distance, “I have someone that I would like you to meet.”

Frank, obviously hearing her, ducks his head in. He looks a bit confused, but he covers up it up quickly, brushing his hand on his jeans before offering it to Paxton. “Pete,” he says, “Pete Castiglione. Please to meet you, sir.”

Paxton blinks at him for a few moments, then reaches out his hand to shake Frank’s hand. He turns to Karen, still looking shocked to see her standing there. “Are you... is this... are you pregnant?”

Karen huffs out a laugh, and she swears that Frank is blushing. “No, dad. I just wanted you to meet him. He’s an important person in my life, and tomorrow is Christmas Eve. I just… I wanted to see you. Is that so strange?”

“Well I guess I’m confused because the last time that I saw you, you seemed to hate me, Karen,” her father says.

Frank makes a disgruntled noise at that, but Karen waves a hand at him indicating that she can more than handle this. “I didn’t hate you, dad. I was looking for something, for anything, to hold onto after mom died, and you didn’t…”

“I did everything that I knew how to do!” he protests loudly. “I mean Jesus Christ, Karen, what do you want from me? Did you not want to go to college? What kind of life do you think you would have now if I hadn't pushed you back then? Did you want to get trapped here?”

She shakes her head. He’ll never understand, and it was stupid of her to come here. She turns around to walk out, but she walks straight into Frank. He holds her, looking over her head at her father.

“I’m sorry, can I say something?” he asks, and his voice is calm like the eerie quiet before the storm hits.

Paxton waves his arms as if to say, _Go right ahead, whoever the hell you are._ Karen just stays staring at his chest, focusing on the shiny zippers and buttons rather than on what's going on around her. 

“Sir, I just want to make sure that I understand you. You and Karen, from what I understand, you had some issues after her mother passed. So the way that you handled this situation was by pushing her out of here.” Paxton opens his mouth as if he wants to object, but Frank just keeps talking: “Now it’s clear that there’s a lot of history here that I just don’t understand. But what you’re saying here, ultimately, is that you no longer want to talk to your daughter. Your own flesh and blood. You raised her, you loved her, and suddenly you just want... what? To never see her again?”

“I think we're done here,” Paxton retorts, his face a mask of anger. “And you know what? You were right about precisely one thing. You have no idea what’s going on here. Nurse!”

Frank pushes Karen aside, crowding into Paxton’s space. It makes him look even older and more frail, and Karen watches as he leans over the railing of the hospital bed to lock eyes with her father. “Sir, I have to tell you that that’s bullshit. And let me tell you a story about this sort of bullshit. It’s about a man who went to war, but who never properly came back. Oh sure, he came home to see his family occasionally, but his heart was never in it. He left the best parts of himself locked far away, and then when his family was in danger, he wasn’t ready and able to protect them. Not when they needed him the most. And as a consequence of his actions, this man watched his wife die, and his son die. But you know what killed him the most, what killed him the most was..."

A nurse rushes into the room, and Paxton yells at her, “Nurse, can you get this madman out of my room? I don't want to listen to him anymore.”

She frowns at Paxton, but politely says to Frank: “Sir, can you please leave the hospital? You seem to be disturbing our patient. He's very ill, and he needs his rest.”

Karen walks over to Frank, pulling at his elbow, but he just shrugs her off. “No, I’m going to leave when I finish this story, ma’am. You can call the police if you find that most appropriate. But I’m going to finish this, because it’s important for him to hear it.”

The nurse glares at them all, and walks out. Karen’s heart pound as she wonders if she really is going to call the police. But she can’t take her eyes off of Frank. The only time she’s ever seen him this angry was during his court trial.

“Sorry for the interruption. But you know what killed that man the most, sir, was watching his daughter die. As he watched the life fade out of her eyes, he wished he hadn’t spent so much time halfway around the world fighting and killing strangers. He wished he had resigned earlier, that he had come home to see her at her school plays and her dance recitals and her birthday parties, and all that stupid bullshit. And all he could think about in the days that followed was how he would have given anything in the whole wide world to take it all back. To spend one more day, one more hour, or one more second, with her. But he can’t! He can’t take it back, because once someone is gone, they're gone for good.”

He gestures back at Karen, who is still standing behind him. “But things can be different for you and Karen. Only you aren’t going to take that opportunity, because you’re a stubborn ass and you don’t want to be wrong. You don’t want to forgive and forget. But let me tell you,” he leans down as two male orderlies rush into the room. “One day you are going be laying on your deathbed, and you are going to regret every single day that you didn’t talk to your daughter. Because she is beautiful, and wonderful, and talented, and you...”

The orderlies grab him by the arms, but he yells them, “One minute, one goddamn minute! ... You, sir, you are missing out. You are missing out on her and her life. And whatever you lost, whatever you left behind you, nothing is as important as what’s still in front of you. Focus on the future, and what you still have. What you still have is her.”

He shakes his head, apparently tired from ranting and disgusted with Paxton. “Or just do whatever you want, you piece of shit. Because she doesn’t need you anyway.”

He shakes off the burly orderlies as if they’re nothing, and then he walks out. Karen looks over at her father, who studiously stares at the television, still blaring away about a used car sale that’s going on at Al’s Auto World. She wraps her arms around herself, nods to the nurses and orderlies, and follows Frank back out to the car.

\---

She struggles to keep up with him as he walks rapidly through the hospital, taking the stairs and not the elevator. She catches up to him just as he rounds the corner of the building outside and punches the brick wall, yelling out a scream that isn't even a word, just a pure cry of rage. 

“Jesus Christ, Frank!" 

His knuckles are bleeding, and his breathing is ragged. He rests his head against the cold brick. “I just couldn’t take the way he was talking to you, Karen. You grew up with that? What a piece of shit.”

She curls her arms around herself as the chill wind rips through her sweater, chilling her to the bone. “You know, you don’t know everything Frank, you don’t really know what happened...”

He walks over to her, grabbing her upper arm. “That’s bullshit, I know the most important fact. Because what I know is you. And you don’t deserve the way he talks to you. And you sure as shit didn’t deserve whatever he did back then either.”

She hears a dim police siren, and wonders if the nurse really did call the police after all. “We should go,” she says, walking towards the car.

Frank follows her silently, and they drive off, merging onto the freeway and heading for home.

\---

The sun sets pretty early in the winter, and by 7 pm they’re only halfway home and it’s pitch dark outside. Frank declares that he’s hungry, in spite of the burger and fries that he wolfed down at Penny's earlier. So he pulls off at a small roadside diner near a large and well-lit gas station, and they find themselves in the middle of a busy Saturday night at what is clearly a well-loved local establishment.

The hostess seats them at a tiny table wedged in the back of the diner near the bathroom, and Frank orders them both milkshakes before Karen can even gather her wits enough to protest. She feels exhausted, like she’s been hit by a bus. She’s pretty sure that she looks terrible, and that her eyes and nose are both red from crying.

“I’m not hungry,” she tells him as the waitress walks away to get the milkshakes and fries that Frank ordered.

“You barely ate anything for lunch,” he responds. “And it’s not about being hungry, this is all about comfort food.”

Raucous laughter erupts from a nearby table of teenagers, and Karen startles, jumping up a tiny bit before settling back down into the booth.

“So, you mind filling me in on the whole story?” Frank says, steepling his hands together in front of himself. He's wearing a baseball hat that he pulled out of a duffel bag which was also apparently in Karen’s backseat this entire time. He’s clearly trying to keep a low profile, especially after what happened back at the hospital. The baseball cap casts a shadow over his face, and it’s difficult to see his eyes.

Karen sniffles, rubbing at her nose with her hand. “Does it have to be right now?”

“Well considering the fact that we just spent the last two hours in total silence, I’m thinking it’s going to be an awful long rest of the ride if we can’t talk to one another. I mean, what could really be so bad that you won’t even tell me?”

She leans back in her seat, looking out the window at the darkness.

“Karen.” He leans over and puts his hand over her left one, which is resting on the table. “It’s me. You know who I am. You know the things that I’ve done. Just talk to me like I talk to you.”

She grabs at his hand like it’s a lifeline, feeling it alive and warm beneath hers. “I killed my brother.”

Frank’s eyes widen beneath the brim of his hat, but he says nothing as she relays the entire story. After she’s done, she releases his hand and sits back, feeling like she’s waiting for a jury to come back with a guilty or not verdict.

He’s silent for a few minutes, like he’s processing. And then he leans back, shaking his head. The waitress returned a good long while ago, and their chocolate milk shakes are melting, the large pile of fries between them almost forgotten.

“No, Karen, you’re wrong, you didn’t kill your brother. And anyone who tells you otherwise is an idiot.”

“But I - ”

“Did you purposefully turn that wheel hoping that you were going to tumble over, and that he would die?” Frank’s eyes are sharp like a hawk, and once again she finds herself entranced by them.

“If I hadn’t been dating Todd, none of that would have ever happened. I caused him to - ”

“He came to your boyfriend’s place, and he lit the place on fire! Thinking what? That things would remain calm? Be reasonable, Karen. Your brother played a very large role in what happened that night. Think it over again from another angle. He could have stayed home, he could have talked to you the next day! He didn’t have to commit arson.” Frank is shaking his head again, his mind made up. “You can’t blame yourself for what he did. Even if you played some sort of part, there’s no excuse for what he did.”

She stands up, going over to his side of the booth and sliding in. She isn’t sure why it’s so important to her that he understand. “I killed someone, Frank.”

“For the last time you did not - ”

“Not my brother, someone else.” She licks her lips, and keeps her voice low as she tells him: “One of Fisk’s men. He abducted me, took me to this little office. There was a gun on the table...” She can still see it in her mind’s eye, as crystal clear as the day it happened. Wesley on the one side of the table and her on the other. Him interrogating her. Her reaching for the gun, firing and firing. And then he was dead and slumped over the table, and she was throwing the gun in the dark river outside, going home and guzzling down alcohol to try and forget.

“And you killed him?”

“I didn’t just kill him, Frank. I fired over and over again...”

“Good, that’s my girl.” He’s smiling at her, and it makes her feel sick.

“It was murder.”

She expects that he’ll say the same thing that most people do, that it was all just self defense. But why did she have to fire so many times? 

“Yeah, and so what? Look, this guy wanted you dead, didn’t he? Dead or with the threat of it hanging over your head. So you got him first. What are you, worried that you’re going to develop some kind of blood lust?” He reaches out to grab a few fires and eats them, acting as casual as if they’re talking about the weather.

“It’s not that simple,” she protests. The fries actually do smell good, and she can feel her stomach rumbling. What kind of sick freak is she anyway, talking about murder and wanting to eat french fries at the same time?

He pushes the plate in her direction, “Here eat some.”

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“I can hear your stomach rumbling, so eat. Number one rule you learn in war, never miss an opportunity for good food.”

“This isn’t war, Frank.”

“It’s not? I'm sorry, but a man blows up half of New York, murders your friends, threatens to murder you, and it’s not a war? So what is it then?”

She can’t think of a response, just shakes her head again as if that’s going to make any difference. And then she gives in, shoving a fry in her mouth. It’s quite possibly the most delicious thing that she’s ever tasted in her life, even though it's gone cold. She finds herself immediately reaching for more.

“Not hungry, huh?”

The waitress comes over then, checking that everything is going well. Frank smiles at her, transforming into his charming, good ole boy persona in a flash. He orders two coffees to go for the road, and asks for the check.

“Listen, Karen, you can go on blaming yourself for the things that have happened in your life, or you can chalk it up to what you are.”

“A murderer?”

“A survivor. You lived through a lot of terrible things, and that’s awful. But now you have to decide what to do with your future. You’re strong, stronger than most people out there. So it’s time to move past what’s happened to you, and figure out what you’re going to do next.”

She shoots him a look that’s pretty much a direct challenge. “Just like you’re moving on?”

He pulls his milkshake over to himself, and dips some fries into it. “Yeah, me too.”

\---

When they get back on the road again, Karen rests her head against the passenger side window. The heat is on high, and she can’t help but feel drowsy. The rush of the road beneath them, and the sound of talk radio is soothing to her. She feels like she did when she was a child, her father driving up front, mom beside him, and her riding in the backseat with Kevin. She doesn’t want to fall asleep, but then again, when does she ever get what she wants out of life?

She wakes up in the parking garage of her building with Frank turning the key to shut off the car.

He walks around to her side, opening it and letting the cold air rush in. As she gets out she stumbles and he catches her, holding her against his chest. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles.

“Sorry for what?” he asks, shutting the passenger side door for her.

“For falling asleep again,” she says. “For involving you in my family business, for... For everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize for a goddamn thing,” he tells her.

She looks up at him, realizing abruptly just how close he is to her as her drowsiness fades away. She flashes back to the two of them standing in that elevator after he had rescued her. After that day, she spent so many long nights thinking about that look in his eyes, wishing she had done one thing differently.

This time, she doesn’t want to make the same mistake by letting him walk away. She tugs him down by the front of his shirt, their lips meeting a warm rush that makes her feel light headed. He groans, cupping her face with one hand and leaning into her. She’s standing on her toes now, pressing her whole body against him. All of the blood seems to be rushing downward, and she feels dizzy and undone.

After a few moments though, he pulls back. “Karen, we really shouldn’t do this.”

“But I want this, I want..." she pauses as she realizes the obvious. "I want you.”

He rests his forehead against the top of her head, breathing hard. It’s obvious that he feels the same way that she does, but she doesn’t know why he’s hesitating.

“If we do this, you’ll never be able to go back to a normal life again. I don’t want to be the one who takes that away from you.”

“News flash, I don’t have a normal life.” She stands on her toes again, leaning forward to try and kiss him, but she winds up near his ear instead as he turns his head away from her.

“You don’t even know how normal you are,” he tells her, his voice a dark echo in her ear.

He pulls back then, letting the frigid winter air rush between them. He holds her car keys out to her, and she feels tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. But she won’t cry. She doesn't want to see him to see how much he's hurting her, how very vulnerable she is at this moment. She just takes her keys from him calmly, pretending as if her heart isn’t breaking in two.

“Goodnight, Karen,” he says, walking off into the garage until the shadows have swallowed him whole. The words “get some sleep” drift back to her, making her feel childish and idiotic.

Back in her apartment, everything feels empty and cold. She strips her clothes off until she’s only wearing underpants. Then she dives beneath her covers, and prays that dawn will never come.


	10. A Very Memorable Christmas Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas Eve brings highs and lows to the lives of the trio as they share fun, drunken times, and one memorable game of Cards Against Humanity. Matt and Maggie have a serious conversation about Matt's childhood, and Matt and Foggy make some surprising discoveries about each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating has gone up to Explicit now, so fair warning if that isn't your thing. This chapter might be a bit rougher than the others, because I have an awful stomach bug right now and it's doing it's best to kill me.
> 
> Also Cards Against Humanity in braille is a real thing, if you want to check out the accessibility kit here: http://www.64ouncegames.com/ShopCart/index.php?  
> main_page=product_info&products_id=226
> 
> Blink Abhors Society: An Expansion for Terrible Blind People and Their Friends is available here: http://www.64ouncegames.com/ShopCart/index.php?main_page=product_info&cPath=66&products_id=243
> 
> And if you want to print some: http://www.64ouncegames.com/PrintNPlay/BAS_PnP.pdf

“Foggy, how much did you pay to ship all of this?”

Foggy ignores him, continuing to unpack what seems like dozens of bags that were just dropped off by their local grocery delivery service. He's loading Matt's fridge fuller than it's ever been before, and he can smell fresh fruit, like oranges and strawberries, and several different types of chocolate - including something that smells like chocolate cake. His stomach rumbles in anticipation of the meal that they'll be eating later on in the evening.

Matt shakes his head sadly. “I can’t even believe that they do deliveries on the morning of Christmas Eve. What kind of business would do that to their employees? And what kind of people would take advantage of it?”

“Desperate people, Matt,” Foggy retorts, sliding an enormous ham out of a brown paper bag. He opens a drawer and starts cutting away at the shiny wrapping that covers it. “Desperate people like us.”

The oven is already on and preheating, and Matt has never been more grateful in his life that Foggy knows his way around a kitchen. The only thing that he knows about cooking is how to dial the phone to order Thai food.

“There just wasn’t any time to go shopping,” Foggy says, putting the ham onto a tray. He’s rubbing it with some sort of brown honey glaze that’s based on one of his mother’s recipes. Matt loves the glaze because it not only makes the ham taste delicious, but it also makes it smell amazing while it's cooking. 

He walks up behind him, a sudden urge overtaking him to put his arms around Foggy and bury his nose in all that soft hair at the nape of his neck. He mentally shakes himself, trying to come to his senses. “Is there anything that I can do?” he asks.

Foggy jumps, clearly startled, banging his knee on the cabinet below and cursing violently.

Matt draws back, putting his hands up like he’s surrendering himself to the police. “Sorry, sorry, clearly I don’t belong in the kitchen.”

“I just hope that we put this in early enough,” his friend grumbles, sliding the tray into the oven. “I don’t want to be eating at midnight.”

“Might make church a little difficult,” Matt laughs. He munches on one of the sweet cinnamon buns that Foggy made when they first woke up. It's crispy and gooey, pretty much perfectly cooked. “Provided that I can still go that is.” 

“Why wouldn’t you be able to go?” Foggy is banging around in the cabinets, bringing out a pan that he fills with water and starts heating up on the burners.

“I would have to find someone to watch Ella. Probably not a good idea to just drag her across town at midnight. I also want to talk to Maggie about it before she actually sees her. Don’t want to give her a heart attack.” 

“Don’t be silly, I can watch her.” He pulls out a carton of eggs, standing and waiting for the water to boil so that he can put them in. _Deviled eggs it is then,_ Matt thinks to himself. _Delicious_.

“I don’t want to assume, you know. You’re already doing so much…”

“Oh yeah, you might cut into the wild nightlife that I have going on if you keep asking me,” Foggy chuckles to himself at his own joke. He keeps glancing at the clock as if he’s nervous about everything coming together in time.

“It’s going to be fine, Foggy. You worry every year, and every year everything turns out amazing.”

“It turns out amazing _because_ I worry. And also because I keep my eye on the clock. I’m actually kind of wondering where Karen is anyway. Wasn’t she supposed to be here already?”

“I can call her if you want.”

“No offense, but she definitely is more helpful in the kitchen than you.”

Matt rubs his chest in mock hurt. “Ouch Foggy, that hurts all two of my feelings.”

Foggy reaches for his coffee mug, settling in on a bar stool to wait for the boiling water. “We’ll wait fifteen minutes, and then call her. I’m sure that she’s probably just at the store or something.”

\---

By the time 11:30 rolls around and they’re putting Ella down for a nap, Matt decides to give her a call. When she answers, her voice is thick and raspy with sleep, as if he’s just woken her up. She assures him that she’ll be right over, but there’s something strange in her voice. He just can’t quite place what it is. He hangs up, walking back into the kitchen where Foggy is brewing a second round of coffee.

Tapping his phone against his chest, he bites the inside of his mouth. He’s debating whether or not he should let Foggy in on his suspicions about Karen and Frank. He’s probably the last person in the world who should be giving away someone’s secrets or invading their personal life, but he honestly just wants to get Foggy’s perspective on the whole situation. Talking things out with him always seems to help him organize his own thoughts, and leaving him in the dark about these sorts of things hasn't worked out very well for Matt in the past.

Foggy sets a cup of coffee in front of him without asking, black without sugar or creamer. He doesn’t particularly love most sweeteners, considering all of the chemicals that they put into them.

“Something wrong?” Foggy asks him as Matt sets his phone down on the kitchen counter.

“I’m not sure it’s my story to tell,” he responds honestly, picking up the coffee and taking a cautious sip. It’s hot, but not unbearably so.

“Well now you have me really worried.”

He pauses, and decides against sharing something that he can't take back, and also that he isn't certain of yet. “Let me talk to Karen today, before I…”

“Share something that isn’t really your business?”

He coughs, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Yeah, that.”

 _Although something that involves the Punisher could definitely become my business,_ he thinks to himself silently.

“Alrighty, most of what has to go in the oven is already in, and we have a few hours until anything else has to be done. I think we’ll eat at 4… 5 maybe?” He squints at the clock while he does mental calculations.

“Ella is definitely down for the count,” Matt adds. "Based on her usual schedule, she probably won't be up for a few hours.

“And Karen probably won’t be here for a little while… what do you want to do while we wait?”

 _We could always make out,_ a devilish voice within him whispers.

“I have some movies that we could watch,” Foggy continues, his voice fading away as he passes Matt by and continues into the living room. “Although that might be a little boring. What did we do last year again?”

Matt follows him back out into the living room area, settling down on the couch. Foggy has been sleeping there, and it’s starting to smell like him. It makes him want to bury his nose in it, but he resolutely takes another sip of coffee instead. “We got very drunk, and we played board games.”

“Ahhh, that’s right.” Foggy's fiddling with the tv, turning it on and flipping through movie options. He had been the one to insist on the tv, bringing his old one over from Marci's a few days ago and mounting it on the wall. Between all of Foggy's half unopened boxes of clothes and books, and all of the baby stuff that they still haven't unpacked, the apartment is just littered with boxes. Matt's been bumping into stuff for days, but he figures that unpacking everything properly will have to wait until the holidays are over.

 _That is if Foggy doesn't find somewhere else to stay or move out._ His stomach drops at the thought, but he realizes that he probably won't want to live with him and Ella forever. He'll want to move on with his life, and maybe Matt should too.

He clears his throat and adds, “Yeah, you and Karen made me play Monopoly, which really wasn’t fair, considering that I can’t see the money. And it also wasn't fair because both of you were both cheating.”

“We were not cheating,” Foggy protests, dropping himself next to Matt on the couch with a whoosh.

“Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean that I can’t hear both of you giggling and whispering together like a pair of old ladies as you strategize against me.”

“So I'm gathering that you don't want to play Monopoly this year?”

Matt makes a sour face at him, and Foggy takes it as the hint that it is.

“But yes to the still getting drunk part, right?”

Matt smiles, "I bought a new bottle of Jack Daniels a few weeks ago, just for this occasion.”

“Yes! What are we waiting for, let’s make our coffee Irish!” Foggy kicks him with one of his legs, and Matt laughs, going back to the kitchen and grabbing the bottle.

When he comes back to the couch, Foggy has already queued up the movie and it’s starting. He can recognize this one based on the iconic music alone.

“Home Alone?” Matt asks, unwrapping the plastic from the top of the bottle and unscrewing it with a pop.

“It’s a classic!” Foggy says, taking the bottle from him and pouring for them both.

 _One of the last ones that I actually saw with my dad before I lost my vision, actually._ He doesn’t say this bit out loud, even though he wonders if he should. He just listens as Foggy pours, wondering just how much liquid is going into the glass. When he takes a sip, it burns going all the way down. “Oh my god, Foggy, if we drink like this we’re going to be passed out by the time dinner rolls around.”

“Eh, it’ll be fine. Hey, do you want to play a drinking game that goes along with this movie?”

\---

By the time Karen arrives, they’re both tipsy and headed for trashed town, as Foggy helpfully “narrates” the movie to Matt.

“And here comes the creepiest old man ever… I had a guy who lived on my block like that when I was a kid. Theo and I used to run away from him because he wore ear muffs year round and smelled like cat urine. And let me tell you, that guy never saved me from any burglars, in fact I think he may have been a burglar himself…”

They left the door unlocked for her, so Karen just walks straight in carrying several large bags. “Sorry I'm late guys! Also, this is going to be a very unclassy Christmas." She sets the bags down in the hallway and kicks her boots off, stomping a bit to get the snow off of them. “I forgot to get anything yesterday, so all of these cookies came straight from CVS.”

“Oh my god, did you say cookies?” Foggy asks, turning around. His face is lit up with excitement. “Can we eat them now? What about chips, did you bring chips too?”

She laughs, hanging her coat up in the hallway. “Are you both drunk already?”

“Foggy’s drunk, I’m totally…” Matt feels flushed and sort of sweaty. “I’m completely sober, Karen. I swear." He makes a hand motion as if he's crossing his heart.

“Uh-huh,” she says doubtfully, coming into the living room.

“Ah, shit, it’s the spider! Drink, drink, drink!” Foggy pokes Matt, who gives a small sound of despair, drinking from his coffee mug which is nearly empty at this point.

“Are you playing a Home Alone drinking game?” Karen asks, settling into one of the side chairs. Some of her scent drifts over to Matt, who turns his head and sniffs, hoping that she doesn't recognize what he's doing. He smells hospital antiseptics, cloying and chemical. And he smells coffee, fries, gasoline.... as well aftershave and metal - Frank.

He can’t help the frown that spreads across his face, the alcohol that he's consumed making his emotions harder to conceal.

“Yeah, but now that you’re here, we can play Cards Against Humanity!” Foggy eagerly reaches beneath his chair, pulling out a box triumphantly. "I bought some for Matt for Christmas."

“And how is Matt going to read the cards, Foggy?”

“There’s an accessibility pack that lets you read the cards in braille. And I set it all up, so we're ready to go."

“And how exactly does this game work?” Matt asks.

“So we all get cards, right,” he puts them all onto the table in the middle of the room, sliding to sit down on the floor. He’s sorting and shuffling, as Matt wonders if he should just make some sort of excuse and try to talk to Karen now. He knows that they'll have to talk about Frank sometime, although now might not be the right moment. He tries to focus on what Foggy is saying as he explains how the game works. “We all get some cards to start with, don’t show them to anybody else…”

“Basically we all start off with ten white cards, although I know you can't see the colors," Karen interrupts. Apparently she doesn't trust semi-drunk Foggy to explain the game to Matt. "And then we each take turns being the selector, and pulling out a black card. So when you're the selector, you read out what's on the black card. And then people give the selector a white card - remember to hand it over face down so the selector doesn't know know whose card is whose. And then the selector picks the response that they think is the best answer..." 

"Or the funniest one," Foggy says.

"But I want to warn you that the cards can be a bit…”

“Amazing, Karen, the word you're searching for is amazing.”

“I think I’m afraid of this game now,” Matt says. “So if we start playing this, can we stop playing the drinking game?”

“I think that no matter what we do, you should both stop playing the drinking game. You're both all red and sweaty.” And with that Karen leans forward, taking her stack of white cards from Foggy.

He also holds a small stack out to Matt, who takes them, running his fingers across the braille. He quirks an eyebrow. “Am I seriously reading what I think I am?”

“Probably,” Karen says, rearranging her cards in a different order. “Although are these…”

“Some of them are special cards from a set called Blink Abhors Society. They’re specifically for 'terrible blind people and their friends.'” Foggy is also rearranging his cards, laughing to himself as he reads them.

“Where did you order these anyway?”

“64 Oz Games. There's printable ones online too.”

Matt feels his face flush even redder as he keeps reading. “Foggy, one of these cards says ‘Getting Pleasured by a Service Dog.’ And I don't even want to say some of these other ones out loud.”

“We’ll play a few practice rounds so you can get the idea,” Foggy says, not sounding perturbed by what Matt said at all. “Who wants to be the first victim… I mean, selector!”

“I’ll do it,” Karen volunteers. She pulls a card from the stack, putting it down and reading it out loud. “What will always get you laid?”

“The more people you have, the funnier this usually is,” Foggy says, handing Karen a card. “I thought if I gave you this set, that you could play with the other Defenders. Like a game night!”

“You think it’s a good idea to play this game with Jessica Jones?” Matt shakes his head as he hands a card over to Karen. “Have you met her?”

“Okay,” Karen says, “So we have ‘court ordered rehab,’ and ‘making a pouty face.’ Well I think it’s obvious which of these belongs to each of you.”

“That’s why it’s better to play it with more people! It adds to the mystery! Karen, I’m getting you a drink.” Foggy stumbles to his feet, and goes to the kitchen. “I have some New Castle in the fridge with your name all over it.”

She sighs, “I guess I probably should, if we’re going to play this game. I’m going with the pouty face, which I’m assuming is Matt.”

“He can’t even see his own face, but he knows how to use it like a deadly weapon!”

Foggy hands the beer to Karen, and the night steadily devolves from there.

\---

An hour later, they’re still playing, and Matt thinks they’re being so loud and rowdy that they have to be bothering his neighbors, but he can’t find it in himself to care at the moment. They’ve moved onto the movie Elf, and Foggy and Karen and both trying to “helpfully narrate” it for him.

“I don’t get it,” Karen says, “if someone sang to me while I was in the shower, I would never talk to them again. And that song is so creepy… Okay, the new card is, ‘How I lost my virginity.’”

“I don’t know, it could be romantic.” Foggy grabs Matt by the back of his shirt, and starts to try to serenade him. “‘Beautiful, what's your hurry?'”

His breath is warm on Matt’s ear, and he reeks of the whiskey that they’ve been drinking. Matt laughs, trying to act casual, “You are so tone deaf!"

Foggy leans against him, almost shoving him over, still singing, “‘But baby it’s cold, outsider!’”

Matt elbows him, and he finally backs off, still humming tunelessly under his breath.

“So let's see what we have for this round,” Karen says, swigging more New Castle.

She did indeed bring chips, and the bags are laid out on the table, along with the cookies. It’s a gluttony of oversaturated snacks, but it helps soak up the alcohol, so Matt’s been indulging right along with them.

She reads out the cards that Foggy and Matt give to her, “‘Two brothers, an Impala, and a fuckton of pie’… and ‘Justin Bieber.’ Well, I’m guessing Foggy is the two brothers one…”

“I like that long haired one,” Foggy interjects, “so hot.”

Matt turns his head in Foggy’s direction before he can think about it. He knew that there were rumors in college that he had slept with a few guys, but he was never really sure if he it was true or if the people in question were just being spreading wild rumors.

“So that means that Matt is Justin Bieber. Repressing your true sexuality, are you?” she laughs, pulling some more cookies out of the sleeve, and biting into them.

In spite of himself, he feels his pulse speed up, his heart hammering nervously in his chest. He forces a casual smile onto his face, “You’ve caught me, Karen. Me and my secret lust for Justin Bieber. So which one are you going with?"

"Oh the two brothers one for sure! Alright, Matt, your turn to be the selector..."

He's reaching for a black card when Foggy jumps up suddenly, startling both of them.

“The ham!” He yells and runs into the kitchen, checking on the oven and yelling something unintelligible.

“Yeah, we should probably be working on dinner, shouldn’t we?” Karen asks, looking over at the windows. Outside the sun is steadily descending. The billboard outside of Matt’s place is off for once, leaving them in the glow of the soft twinkle lights that Foggy’s mother had insisted he take from her place.

_"It's not right to just leave it bare," she had scolded them when they told her that they weren't planning on putting up anything up this year. "And with a newborn in the apartment too!"_

Foggy is muttering to himself, opening the fridge and pulling out the eggs and a tray filled with cheesy potatoes. Matt figures this might be their only option to talk alone, and he jerks his head in the direction of the bedroom. Karen’s brow creases into a frown though, clearly not understanding what he wants from her. So he stands, gesturing for her to follow him as he walks into the bedroom. In the darkened room Ella is still sleeping in her crib. So he takes Karen into the bathroom, firmly shutting the door behind them.

“What’s going on?” Karen asks, hugging her arms around herself.

“I think you already know.”

“Sometimes I hate your heightened senses, Matt. It's not really fair to the rest of us, you know?"

“Because I wouldn’t know anything about things not being fair, would I?’

She licks her lips, biting at the bottom one. “What I do with my own life is none of your business.”

“I know it’s not. But you can talk to me, you know. I just… I know things haven’t been great between us lately, but I don’t want you to think that you can’t tell me what’s going on.”

She walks over to the toilet, shutting the lid and sitting down. He leans against the side of the wall near the door, unprepared for the tears that start to track down her face when she starts talking again. “I went to go see my father yesterday,” she tells him. “And Frank came with me.”

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t think that I even know what okay is anymore.”

He can't stop himself from going over to her then, awkwardly kneeling down and pulling her into a hug.

“I know what you think about him, Matt,” she says, “but he’s a good man.”

“Did I say anything?”

“You didn’t have to, your face says it all."

He sighs, pulling back but staying crouched next to her. “You're right that it's your life, and that you have to make your own choices.”

“Damn right I do.” She stands, towering over him. “Besides, I don’t think I’m the only one keeping secrets.”

Matt stands up at that, fiddling with the zipper on his hoodie. “I told you about Ella right away.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about, and I think that you know it.”

He swallows nervously. “No, I don’t what you're talking about."

She sighs as if she's seriously disappointed in him. "Just come back around and talk to me about Frank again when you’re ready to talk to me honestly about your own feelings for Foggy,” she says, walking out to the kitchen to help Foggy finish cooking.

\---

Dinner passes in a happy blur. Ella wakes up, and Foggy and Karen take turns playing with her, tickling her feet and making her laugh. The food is incredible, like it usually is. Ham, cheesy potatoes, green beans, deviled eggs, and buttery bread followed by amazing chocolate cake and fruit. By the end of it, Matt can't eat anything else, and he sits back, feeling so full that he may never need to eat again.

Matt usually goes to midnight mass on his own, but during the meal they decide that they all want to go to church together. They definitely can't go at midnight because of Ella, but they read online that there’s a 6 pm mass with a nativity play that includes live animals. So after dinner they leave the dishes in the sink, pack Ella up and make sure that she’s warm, and that they have a bottle or two to spare. Matt changes from his hoodie and sweatpants into a proper suit and tie, and Foggy puts on a new sweater that Karen says compliments his eyes.

Then they walk the few blocks to the church, where there’s a crowd of families all trying to shove themselves into the door at the same time.

“Jesus Christ,” Foggy swears, and Matt smiles at the irony of him using that expression in church as they try to search for a place to sit. “You would think they were giving stuff away for free here.”

“Most people only come here once a year,” Matt tells him, pressing in a bit closer to him than is strictly necessary when they squeeze into a pew near the back. “And with the whole show they put on for this particular Mass, this is the one most families come to.”

Karen, who volunteered to lug the heavy baby carrier around, squeezes in last. Matt reaches his senses out, searching for Maggie. It’s difficult to find her in the crowd though, and eventually he gives up. The Mass itself is long, and the new priest definitely doesn't have the charisma that Father Lantom did. The highlight is the nativity play, the children from the orphanage and the local school coming together to put it on. He always remembered it being a big deal when he was a kid. There were actual tryouts, and the girls always wanted to be cast as Mary.

He usually wound up in the background somewhere, singing in the chorus or helping with the set. One year he was actually in the play as a shepherd, but that hadn't turned out so well…

He gives an involuntary twitch, and Foggy looks over at him. “Are you okay?”

At that moment Ella gives a tiny cry, and he excuses himself to the bathroom with the diaper bag rather than give Foggy an honest answer. After changing her, Matt walks out of the bathroom and down the hallway. He doesn’t feel like going back yet, and he walks down the halls and finds Maggie just where he thought she would be - at the side of the church helping out with the nativity play.

The play must be ending, because children are streaming out from the side doors. Maggie is helping a small shepherd with his robe, which has gotten tangled somehow. Matt’s heart gives a pang as he flashes back to his own childhood. He hasn’t thought about Tommy Rubin in years, but the conversation with Karen and the nativity play itself are making it rather difficult to play the game of forgetting like he usually does. The boy runs off after she finishes sorting him out, darting off after the others to the dining hall, where they have a reception set up for the community to attend when Mass ends. It's like a large annual Christmas party for the church itself, and Matt knows from experience that there will be punch, pizza, and an array of other fatty and delicious foods.

“I thought I wouldn’t see you until midnight,” Maggie says. He can tell that she’s eyeing the baby, but she hasn’t said anything about Ella yet.

“My friends wanted to come with me, and midnight was a bit late for…” He can feel Ella shifting in his arms, as if she can sense how uncomfortable he is having this conversation.

“Do you want to go somewhere and talk?” Maggie asks.

He follows her to a private office, struggling to figure out what to say.

When they get into the office though, Maggie doesn’t say anything. But she holds her arms out for the baby, Matt transferring Ella over to her without a word. She hums a bit, rocking Ella and walking around with her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, feeling more and more tense as the minutes tick by. “If you have other things to do…”

“There are a lot of helping hands tonight, so I think I can spend as long as I’d like with you,” she tells him. “She looks a lot like you, you know.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“And this was a surprise to you, I imagine.”

He gives a bitter chuckle. “That’s one way to put it.”

"Does she have a name?"

"It's Ella. I didn't name her uh... her mother did."

“And where is her mother?”

His heart constricts with pain as he thinks of Elektra. “Gone.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I can't imagine how difficult this must be for you.”

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling frustrated. This night has brought up too many bad memories, and it’s starting to feel overwhelming at this point.

“Your friend looks very nice tonight. I saw the three of you sitting out there, but I didn’t have time to say hello. And what a lovely dress, too. So festive!” Maggie continues, and he suddenly realizes that she means Karen. For some reason he had assumed that she meant Foggy at first, and now he finds himself laughing at his own stupid assumption. She raises an eyebrow at him. “Have I said something funny?”

“I’m just an idiot,” he replies, feeling agitated. He wants to pace, but he settles for clenching and unclenching his fist.

“And what makes you an idiot?” she asks him. He hates how soft and calm her voice is, as if she has every right to ask him about his personal life. Somehow though, he can’t help but give her an honest response.

“I think that I’m in love with my friend, and that I have been for a long time, without realizing it.”

“Well, there’s definitely time to correct that mistake.”

He shakes his head, "That might be a bit tricky.”

“It's obvious that she cares for you, Matthew. She even came here to try and protect you, that awful night that Father Lantom…”

“Karen isn't the friend that I'm talking about.”

“Oh,” she says. In that ‘oh’ he hears her shock, and then silence after, as she realizes exactly who he means. It's almost if he can hear her brain whirring, recalculating all of the assumptions that she’s made about him over the years. “Well he seems very nice as well,” she says, but the pause before her statement makes his stomach churn.

“Do you remember Tommy Rubin?” he asks her, and she seems thrown by the sudden change in topic.

“Yes, he used to go to school near here, didn’t he? When you were… oh.”

“So you heard about the two of us?”

She paces back and forth, still holding Ella. “I didn’t realize that was you. Father Lantom never told us the names of the two boys who were involved.”

“Involved? They caught us kissing, that's all, and Father Klein…”

“You know that Father Lantom was furious when he heard how Father Klein overreacted. He didn’t approve of what had been said and done about it all.”

“Because that really changes everything, doesn’t it!” He can’t help it, his voice is rising and he can feel himself turning red with anger as something long suppressed rises up within him.

She’s shaking her head sadly. “No, of course it doesn’t.”

“When Tommy went home that day, do you know what his father did when he heard? He beat the shit out of him, with his belt. And then - ”

“He took him out of the school. I never realized why he did, but it's obvious looking back that the two events must have been connected. I’m so sorry, Matthew.”

She’s walking towards him now, and he’s shaking with an emotion that he doesn’t have a name for. He wants to call it rage or fury, but it’s closer to the cold slap of shock and trauma. She rests her right hand on his arm as if trying to steady him. 

“And if you would have known about it, what would you even have done?” He yells at her, throwing the words out like a challenge. “Nothing!”

“I can’t undo the past, Matthew. All I can do is continue to apologize.”

“Your apologies are bullshit.”

She lets out a long breath. “You know that your father wouldn’t have done that, don’t you?”

He feels like he’s been punched in the ribs, and he finds himself struggling for air. She moves her hand from his shoulder to his face, as if she can communicate what she wants to tell him by touch alone. “He never would have done that to you.”

He gasps, feeling like he’s going to cry. There’s a knock on the door then, the young girl who was dressed as Mary in the play ducking her head in shyly. “Sister Maggie?” Her voice is soft and uncertain. “Father White said he needs you downstairs. If, uh… if you’re available.”

“Of course, I’ll be right there.”

The girl shuts the door, and Matt realizes that he's still shaking. She hands Ella back over to him after kissing the top of her head. “You should have love in your life, Matthew. No matter who it is.”

She pauses in the doorway before she leaves, looking back at him. “Please don’t be a stranger to me. I know that I didn’t do the right thing when I was younger, but I would love the chance to get to know your daughter.”

And with that, she’s gone.

\---

He can’t think clearly after that. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to go back into the main area of the church, packed full of happy families and the joy of the holiday season. He uses his phone to send a quick voice-to-text message to Foggy, telling him to meet him back at the house. He isn’t sure about Karen and what she’ll want to do, but he just feels an aching restlessness in his skin and he has to get outside and away.

Sometimes he feels like a ticking time bomb, like he's just going to explode one day, and who knows what kind of carnage he'll leave behind when does. He left the carrier and most of the blankets in the pew with Karen, but he does his best to bundle Ella up before plunging outside. The church honestly isn’t far, and he figures that he’ll take a shortcut through the park.

It’s there that he senses her, surrounded in a sea of falling snowflakes. She’s a flash of red in his senses, an electric current in his bloodstream.

 _Elektra_.

He turns, trying to track her, but she’s already fading away.

He wants to run after her, he has so many questions…

But he just listens to the snow falling softly around him, and turns around to go home. In his arms, Ella makes a tiny noise and he shushes her, assuring her that everything is going to be alright.

Dimly he thinks he hear the wind whisper to him: _Goodbye, Matthew._

\---

When he gets back to his apartment it seems strangely empty without Foggy there. He rubs a hand across his face, feeling as if he’s lived an entire lifetime in a single day. The alcohol he drank earlier has worn away, leaving only exhaustion behind. He sets his red glasses on the kitchen counter before he fixes Ella a bottle, sitting in a chair to feed her. He can’t help but lean down, and smell her hair like Foggy’s mother did. She smells sweetly fresh, and when she reaches a hand up to him he puts his nose in her hand and places a kiss in her outstretched palm.

She falls asleep while she’s drinking the bottle, and it's comically still sticking up in her mouth and partially full as she drifts off. He pulls it out, and she reflexively makes a sucking noise with her mouth. Trying not to wake her, he lays her down in her crib. Then he stands at the side of her crib for a long while, listening to her breathing. It’s a calming sound, and soon he finds himself breathing steadily along with her: in and out, in and out.

Eventually he hears the door open and close, and Foggy comes inside, carrying the smell of the night air and church incense with him. There’s a chill on his skin, and snow on his hair and coat. He starts flicking on the lights that Matt hadn’t bothered with because he doesn't use them, calling out his name loudly.

Matt comes out of the bedroom, sliding the door shut behind himself and raising a finger up to his lips to indicate that Foggy should be quieter. “I just got her to sleep,” he says.

“What’s going?” Foggy demands, his heart pounding erratically. “Why did you leave?”

“I had an upsetting conversation with my mother,” Matt says, walking over to the kitchen to pour himself some whiskey in a clean glass. He deliberately tries to not think about why he just called her his mother when he usually calls her Maggie.

Foggy follows him over to the bar, utterly too close to him for comfort. “About Ella? What did she say?”

“No,” Matt says, swallowing half of the glass in one go. It lights a burning fire inside of him, a familiar feeling of warmth in his chest shortly following. “She seems like she wants to get to know Ella.”

Foggy takes the glass out of his hand when he raises it up again, stealing the whiskey for himself. He drinks it down before asking: “So what then? What did you talk about?”

“Something that happened a long time ago, right after I started living at St. Agnes. There was a priest there, Father Klein. I did something…" he stumbles over the words. "Something that he didn’t approve of. He trapped me in this room for hours, he…” He finds himself unable to go on.

“Did he hit you?” Foggy’s voice is close by, and he sets the glass down to reach for Matt’s arm.

“No, he just talked to me in a calm, quiet voice the entire time. He wanted to tell me what was going to happen to me if I persisted in my ‘behavior’ as he called it. Father Lantom was the one who rescued me. He wasn’t happy at all with what Klein did, what he said. He told me it wasn’t important, that I should forget it. But how did you forget something like that?”

“What did you do that he didn't approve of? Were you fighting?”

“No, because of course that would have been normal.”

Foggy is gripping his arm now, trying to give him some sort of physical comfort. He wants to lean forward, and wrap himself in Foggy's warmth and just never let go.

“I don’t think that I understand.”

“We were kissing, Foggy. Me and Tommy Rubin. There was a dumpster back behind the church, and kids used to hide back there and smoke. That might get you a fifteen minute lecture about your health. But apparently what we did required something else altogether. Because you see, we were doing the worst thing one could ever do: we were endangering our immortal souls.”

He can hear Foggy’s heart stutter when Matt tells him the story, but he doesn’t let go of his arm. “You never told me that before,” is all he says.

“Because I was afraid that he was right, Foggy. That I really would…”

“Hell isn’t a real place, Matt.”

“You don’t know that.”

Foggy just shakes his head, “You have to know that what that priest told you isn’t true.” Matt doesn’t respond, and he presses on, “Tell me that you know that it isn’t true.”

“You don’t even know what he said.”

“I think I can guess.” Foggy’s voice is more serious than Matt thinks it's ever been, and there’s a dark current running below it. His breathing is shallow, and Matt realizes that he’s shaking with anger on Matt's behalf.

“He did what he thought was right.”

“He traumatized you!”

Matt shakes Foggy’s hand off, trying to reach for the bottle again. But Foggy is there, grabbing his hands away. They wind up half tangled together as Matt tries to pull away, and Foggy grips him by his wrists. “You have to realize that what he told you isn’t true, Matt.” He’s shaking his head at him. “It’s not.”

“There’s a difference between knowing something in your mind and feeling it in your heart,” Matt says softly.

“Well I’m telling you, in your heart,” Foggy lets go of his wrists so that he can put his right hand over Matt’s heart. “That it isn’t true.”

He leans forward, resting his forehead against Matt’s. They’re inches apart from each other, breathing in the same air, and Matt is mouthing Foggy’s name when the distance closes and their lips meet. It’s soft and sweet, and Matt can taste the whiskey that they just drank on his lips.

When Foggy opens his mouth Matt makes a desperate sound, letting him in. He wraps his arms around Foggy’s shoulders, his fingers buried in the short strands of his hair. He pulls Foggy closer, and the kiss that started off innocent starts to turn into something needy and urgent.

It feels as if they’ve unleashed something that neither one of them can control, like they’re both on a runaway train to an unknown destination, hurtling towards oblivion. Foggy is pushing him back against the kitchen countertop, completely heedless of the bar stool digging into Matt’s back. His kisses are feverish and devouring, displaying an aggression that Matt’s never really seen before. He kisses down Matt’s jawline to the pulse point in his neck, and when he feels his teeth on his neck, Matt can’t help but jump, shoving his hips forward as his body instinctively craves more friction. Foggy seems to think he’s hurt him though, and he pulls back. “Are you - ”

His question is cut off by Matt, who pulls him forward by his sweater into another crushing kiss. Foggy is moaning into his mouth, and Matt puts both hands on his chest, maneuvering him backwards. Like an automaton, Foggy takes a few steps before realizing what’s going on, breaking the kiss to ask where they’re going.

“Couch,” Matt growls out.

“Good idea,” Foggy groans approvingly. His hands slide up under the front of Matt's suit jacket, pulling it off. It winds up somewhere on the floor as Foggy starts unbuttoning Matt’s shirt. Absurdly he winds up with an unbuttoned shirt still trapped by his tie around his neck. At that point they wind up running into the back of the couch, because Foggy is walking backwards and between that and all of the kissing, neither one of them is quite watching where they’re going.

Matt presses his hips forward into Foggy, gasping for air. Foggy is undoing his tie at last, sliding his white button down off. And then his fingers are on Matt’s bare skin, and the sensation is so wonderful that he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. And all he wants is more. He slides his fingers under the hem of Foggy’s sweater, running his hands up his chest and making a sound of protest when he finds his progress halted by Foggy’s arms. They fumble awkwardly together, Foggy pulling his sweater over his head and throwing it to the side. Matt vaguely thinks he hears one of his lamps crash to the floor, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck about it right now.

No, he’s too busy to care about anything more than the press of Foggy’s bare skin against his, feeling him hook a finger into his waistband, tugging him over to the other side of the couch. They wind up in a heap on the couch with Matt on the bottom, Foggy pressing him down. It’s the kind of thing that Matt hasn’t done since he was a teenager, shamelessly shoving himself up against another person, turning into a ball of mindless sensation.

When Foggy lightly bites him on his neck again he makes a helpless noise and rubs up against him, feeling the slide of his cock against an answering hardness. “Yes?” Foggy says into his ear, breath hot on his neck.

“Yes,” Matt moans in response.

“You trust me?”

He runs his hands down Foggy’s chest. “Always.”

There’s a trail of hot kisses down his chest, and he can feel the zip and pull of his pants being undone. He tries to push his cock up into Foggy’s hands, and he hears him chuckle before pulling Matt's pants and underwear off, leaving him shivering as the chilly air in his apartment hits him. Matt realizes a moment beforehand what Foggy intends to do, and his mouth opens in a gasp as he feels a hot mouth on his cock. “Fuck,” he whimpers, putting his hand in Foggy’s hair. It seems as if he knows what he’s doing, licking him up and down and leaving him aching for more. When he feels Foggy's mouth on the head of his cock, he wants to scream out in pleasure, but he chokes it down at the abrupt realization that there’s a sleeping baby in the next room.

He can feel himself nearing his climax an embarrassingly short amount of time later. “Foggy,” he says, pulling at the strands of his hair and trying to give him a warning. “Fuck, so good… I’m going to come, please don't stop... ah…”

Seconds later he’s coming, and Foggy is swallowing him down, and he does scream at that, overcome with pleasure. His mind shorts out, and he comes back to himself with Foggy above him, pushing his sweaty hair back and kissing him. He can taste himself on Foggy’s mouth, and feel the hot hardness of him pressed up against his thigh through his pants.

He reaches down, fumbling with the buttons and zipper on the front of his pants. “You really don’t have to do anything, Matt,” Foggy tells him, “I’m ungh, fuck…” Matt wraps his hand around his cock, stroking him up and down. “Oh fuck yes,” Foggy says, kissing him hard. “Please…” 

If they're going to do this properly, he's going to need some lube. Unfortunately, his bedroom seems like it's miles away. But Foggy brought all of those boxes over...  
  
"You don't have anything in one of these boxes that might, ah, improve this situation, do you?" he asks Foggy, feeling his face heat up. He really should be less embarrassed about the question. After all, he's hardly what you would call a blushing virgin. But it's still his first time touching a cock that isn't his own, and somehow that makes everything a tiny bit less obvious, and also strangely more arousing.  
  
After a few moments of fumbling around with the boxes (during which time he also kicks off his pants), Foggy is back, pushing a bottle into Matt's hand and shoving him back down. It seems like he's intending to ride his hand, and after Matt pours some of the lube on his hand and starts stroking him, that's exactly what he does. A steady stream of curses and pleading come out of his mouth pretty much the entire time.

“Please, Matt, please… fuck…”

Matt isn’t quite sure what he’s doing, but Foggy doesn’t seem to care. He does what he knows feel good on him, twisting his wrist just to hear him gasp and his heart rate speed up. He can tell when what he's doing is working, so he concentrates on that, and before long, they've sorted out a good rhythm. Foggy is still talking, mumbling something that even Matt can’t quite make out. When he finally does make it out, he feels blood rush to his cheeks. “Fuck me, huh?” the words tumble out quietly, but Foggy seems to hear him and it makes him even harder.

“Yes, fuck…” Foggy gasps out, his nose tracing the outer shell of Matt’s ear. "Want you..." He says Matt's name again, and it sounds like a prayer. He can't hold back his shudder at that. It’s not something he’s ever thought of doing with anyone before, but for some reason it doesn’t sound totally unappealing to him now.

“I think I’d like that,” he says in a whisper, and Foggy moans.

“Yes?”

“Yes…” he kisses Foggy again, feeling him press against him harder. He can hear his heart thudding, and he knows he’s reaching his climax.

“Fuck, Matt… I’m going to…”

“Yeah, show me, I want to feel you when you come…”

Foggy orgasms with a choked off cry, pressing his face into Matt’s neck. There’s liquid all over Matt’s hand and his stomach, and it cools off as Foggy breathes harshly into his ear. “Fuck,” Foggy says again, and Matt laughs at the disbelief evident in his voice.

He wipes his hand on the couch, figuring his poor abused couch has seen worse in it’s day than some stray semen. Foggy’s head jerks up suddenly, and he starts to pull back, with a muttered apology about crushing Matt to death. Matt pulls him back down for another kiss, smiling against Foggy’s mouth.

He feels shy and lovestruck, asking Foggy if he wants to shower with him. After wiping his stomach off using his underpants, they stumble through the bedroom together, completely naked and trying in vain to be quiet so that Ella doesn’t wake up. In the shower, Matt can’t seem to stop touching Foggy, sliding his hands up and down the front of his chest. He pushes him back up against the wall of the shower, and Foggy shivers as the cold tile makes contact with his back. Matt threads their fingers together, kissing him until the water runs cold.

When they make their way out to the bedroom again Foggy starts walking towards the living room, but Matt grabs his hand to stop him. “Where are you going?” he whispers.

“I thought I would put on some pajamas, and maybe - ”

“Please tell me you aren’t going to try and sleep on the couch. I’m pretty sure it’s covered in sweat and other things that are even less pleasant to think about.”

“I didn’t want to make any assumptions, Matt. This is all still really new for you, and I don’t expect - ”

Matt cuts him off with a kiss, tugging him back towards the bed. He wants to feel Foggy sleeping next to him, needs skin to skin contact with a sudden desire so fierce that it scares him. Foggy follows him, his hands suddenly light on Matt’s skin, like he's not sure if he still has permission to keep touching him.

They wind up cuddled beneath the covers together, Foggy spooning Matt from behind. And for once in her short life, Ella manages to sleep through the night, for which everyone is infinitely grateful.


	11. The Nelson Family Christmas Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A surprise guest shows up at the annual Nelson family Christmas party, and Foggy and Matt's relationship goes public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is told from alternating perspectives, because it was just too complicated to only tell it from one person's POV. 
> 
> I'm going to mark this fic as Part 1, because although I'm nearly done with the first arc there's a still lot more to go. I'm thinking I might just break it off into a new fic for Part 2, because most of the parts you'll probably able to read as their own independent stories. 
> 
> Remember you can always follow me on Tumblr as storyeatingavocado. 
> 
> Cheers and happy reading!

_Foggy_

It takes a few moments for Foggy to realize where he is when he first wakes up. He feels warm and safe, and he can hear the soft sound of someone else breathing nearby. The cool feeling of silk slides against his bare skin, and when he cracks an eye open, he can see the dark tufts of Matt’s hair sticking up from where he’s burrowed himself under the covers.

 _Oh_. The memories of last night come back to him slowly: Christmas Eve dinner, Mass and the nativity play at the church, then coming home, finding Matt and afterwards…

_We totally had sex last night. Me and Matt. We… wow._

He remembers the feeling of Matt’s skin against his, taking him into his mouth and watching him fall apart underneath him. And then Matt’s strong hand wrapped around him, stroking him…

_Did I tell him that I wanted to fuck him?_

Embarrassment floods through him, and he can feel his face flushing with heat. He can’t even believe that he said that out loud. He must have been half out of his mind last night, and he really hadn’t consumed enough alcohol to blame it on being drunk.

Matt mumbles something unintelligible in his sleep, turning over and facing Foggy. He looks peaceful and happy in his sleep, and their legs are brushing together. Foggy is ready to just follow him back to dreamland and leave the worrying about tomorrow for future him, but suddenly he hears a tiny cooing noise from the crib near them.

He tries to stay still, hoping that she’ll go back to sleep, but he hears the noise again, and the coo is starting to sound suspiciously like crying. It’ll probably turn into a full on wail if he continues ignoring her, so he slides out of bed, trying his best to not wake Matt. He puts the closest thing to hand on his body (it’s one of Matt’s bathrobes, hanging on a post in the closet), and then looks down in the crib.

Ella is staring up at him, tiny arms flailing ridiculously. There are tears at the corners of her eyes, and he thinks to himself that it must be weird to be a baby, and totally helpless. She can't do anything for herself, all she can do is make noise and hope that someone hears her and responds.

He puts a finger to his lips, making a shushing noise, as if she can even really understand him anyway. He picks her up, carrying her out to the living room and slowly sliding the bedroom door shut behind him. She definitely needs a diaper change, and luckily they have some of those in the living room. After that he heats up a bottle of formula for her, yawning and trying to sort through his disorganized thoughts.

His brain just keeps saying _Matt and I had sex, Matt and I had sex,_ over and over again, like a mantra.

He straps Ella into her rocker so that he can start making some coffee while her bottle is heating up. He doesn't quite think about the noise, just absent-mindedly pushes the button that makes a little musical light up show go on in the tray to distract her. Ella watches it, completely entranced. He goes through the motions of starting the day like a robot, or maybe like a zombie. His thoughts are so elsewhere that he nearly forgets to put in a filter before pouring the coffee grinds in. Ella is fed and sitting up in her chair by the time that Foggy hears the bedroom door slide open again, and Matt emerges, stumbling a bit, into the living room.

He’s wearing sweatpants and no top, and the view is… the view is… Foggy realizes that the coffee he’s trying to pour into his mug is nearly spilling over, and he hastily puts the carafe back in, using some paper towels to mop the mess that he’s making. His heart is racing inside of his chest, and he feels like he can’t even turn around to look at Matt.

_Matt and I had sex, Matt and I had sex, Matt and I…_

“You know that you can wake me up when she does, right?”

Matt’s sleep-rough voice comes from behind him, and he feels warm arms wrap around him from behind to sweep him into a tight hug.

“Is this my bathrobe?”

Foggy’s tongue feels thick, and his brain is working slowly, like an old computer trying to boot up. “Sorry, it was just hanging there when I woke up, so I borrowed it... I was trying to let you sleep a little longer.” Matt lets out a long breath, burying his face in Foggy’s neck. “Are you smelling me?”

“Mm,” he says, “you smell good.”

“You seem really tired.”

Matt’s nose is tracing the outline of his ear, and the sensation is enough to awaken every nerve ending in his body. He’s fantasized about this for so long, him and Matt, in a scene like this, domestic and happy, that he almost feels like he must be dreaming. This can’t really be happening, can it? He can feel Matt’s lips on his neck, and - dear God, is that his tongue?

“Stop,” he says, half turning to look at Matt. Even to his own ears, it doesn't sound like he really means it. Matt's hair is a god awful mess from sleeping on it wet, and it’s sticking up in every direction. It should look terrible, but of course it looks perfect on him. Artfully mussed and almost like it’s meant to be that way.

“Why?” Matt asks him. “Do you not like it?”

“There is…” Foggy looks over at Ella, who is watching them from her seat on top of the table. “She’s looking at us.”

“Who, Ella?” It seems like it takes Matt a moment to figure it out, and then he lets out a long, full bellied laugh. He leans his face against Foggy’s back, shaking with laughter. “Are you literally saying that you can’t kiss me right now because my daughter is watching us.”

“It’s not appropriate!”

Matt shoves himself backwards, clutching his chest as if he’s in pain. “I could turn her around if you want.”

“That’s not the point here.” Foggy can feel his face heating up, and he knows the real reason that he’s not kissing Matt right now has very little to do with Ella. He’s just worried that somehow this is all just too neat, too perfect. And that it’s going to disappear any second.

“Well, can I have some coffee at least?”

“Sure.”

He knows that Matt is perfectly capable of pouring himself a cup, but he still pulls a cup down from the cabinet and fills it up, turning around to hand it over. When their hands make contact, Matt leans in and brushes their lips together, crowding him back against the counter top. “It’s going to be a long life if you don’t kiss me in front of her.”

The coffee cup has found its way back the counter, and Matt hands have found their way into Foggy’s hair. “A long life, huh?” Foggy murmurs against his lips.

Matt pulls back first, grabbing his coffee mug before heading over to sit down at the table. “Yeah, because I plan on having both of you in my life for a good long while.” He bops her on her nose when he gets over to the table, and she reaches out to try and catch his hand.

He figures that “a good long while” must be Matt Murdock for _I love you, please never leave me._ All in all, this is the best Christmas present that he’s ever received.

\---

_Karen_

Karen is already running late when she hears the knock at her door. She groans, shoving her feet into some black heels and grabbing her purse before dramatically flinging open the door. Screw a coat, it isn’t snowing that hard out, and she’s already wearing a cardigan over her dress…

“Matt, I told you that I would be there as soon as I - ”

“Sweetheart, I am definitely not Matt Murdock.”

“Frank?”

She still has one hand on the doorknob, and her mouth is hanging open like a fish waiting for the hook. After the rejection that he served her the other night, she sort of figured that she might not see him again for awhile. And yet there he stands, right outside of her door: Frank Castle, modern human enigma.

“You headed out?” he asks her, nodding his head to indicate the purse in her hand.

“Yeah, yeah I was,” she tucks a stray strand of hair out of her face, gesturing back at her apartment. “You can come in though, if you want.”

“I wouldn’t want to keep you, if you have somewhere to be.”

“Actually, I am running late… are you… are you wearing glasses?”

The question is mainly rhetorical, because she can see them perched on his face like they've always been there. They look like they belong on the face of one of her college professors - black frames with silver wire accents that somehow perfectly compliment his face. And under his coat she can see a nice black sweater peeking out, and he’s wearing jeans that are a bit more fitted than usual. That, along with the thick curling hair that he’s growing out, and the manicured beard, makes him appear a tiny bit less like Frank Castle, and a bit more like someone who collects vintage records and reads obscure poetry. 

“Hey, I figured if it works for Clark Kent, it might work for me,” he says with a laugh. “And it’s Pete, by the way. Pete Castiglione.” He holds out a hand like they’re just meeting for the first time, and they’re about to shake hello.

“You seriously think that glasses are enough to throw people off?” she asks him, ignoring his hand and instead raising an eyebrow to indicate just what she thinks of that plan.

“Just call me Superman, baby,” he replies, leaning forward towards her as if they’re about to kiss.

Her heart flutters, and she gestures back at her apartment again. “Why don’t you come inside, I can be a little bit late. Well, _later_ , since I'm already late.” 

He walks inside after she does, and she can smell the faint whiff of cologne coming off of him as he shuts the door behind him. “You headed to that annual holiday party with your coworker's family? What was his name again, Novotny?”

“Nelson, and I think you remember that,” she tells him, crossing her arms.

“That’s right, Nelson and Murdock.” He nods his head a bit, looking around her apartment. She can feel him assessing everything, from the dirty plates in her sink to the stack of laundry that she still has to do. She knows that he isn't judging her, but she still wishes that she had done a better job of cleaning last night. “Not a lot of Christmas cheer in your place, is there?”

“What are you doing here, Frank?”

He sighs, squaring his shoulders. “I came to apologize for the other night. I’m sorry that I acted like an asshole. I mean, I knew how hard things were for you right then. How difficult that day was. I shouldn’t have shut you down like that.”

“You were honest, at least,” she tells him, her gaze squarely down on her feet.

“The thing of it is, I really wasn’t.” She looks up as he walks over to her, and she wishes that there was something, anything, that she could do to wipe the pain away from his eyes. “I want to protect you, but the thing is that I can’t, not really. Anything could happen to you. You could be targeted by the mob, you could be shot by some nut job, hell you could be hit by a bus crossing the street tomorrow.”

He seems to be on some sort of roll, all of the words tumbling out of him one after one, so she doesn’t interrupt him, just waits for him to go on. “And that, that kills me. Karen, the reason that I said no wasn't because I was putting you in danger. I mean I was, but the reason I said it was because I was trying to protect myself. I just…. I didn’t want to have something that I could lose. Not again. Not like that.”

“That isn’t a great way to live, Frank.”

He takes the glasses off, just like Clark Kent shedding his facade, setting them down on the countertop. “I know that, and I also know that I’m not any kind of saint. If you keep… if we keep on like this, sooner or later I’m not going to be able to resist you. But you have to know that there’s a distinct possibility that this second life of mine may not last. Someday I might have to...”

He pauses, but she can read between the lines: _Someday I might have to go back to being what - and who - I was._

But she isn’t having any of it. “Frank,” she tells him, “what can of idiot do you take me for?”

His head jerks up, confusion replacing the hangdog expression that he was wearing.

“This is New York,” she goes on, walking forward and eliminating the space space between them. “And like you said, anything could happen at any time. But as you’ve also been saying, and conveniently forgetting, is that that’s no excuse to stop living your life in the present. You have to keep moving forward, and focus on the future. Isn't that what you've been doing? And here, in this moment, all I want to do is be with you. For however long we can.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s looking down at her like he wants to kiss her, and she reaches out to run her hands up his chest, feeling the fabric of his coat prickle underneath her fingertips.

“Nobody can promise me that,” she tells him. “All I can do is try to choose someone who’s worth it all in the end.”

“And you think that somebody is me,” he protests, even as he’s lowering his head to rub his nose against hers.

“Can you just shut up and kiss me already? It’s Christmas.”

And then he's kissing her, and it’s every bit as glorious as she remembered it. She slides her hands up under the sides of his coat, burrowing herself under it to get closer to the warmth of him. He smells amazing, and his chest is firm beneath her roving fingertips. She can feel his arms around her waist, and he’s being perfectly polite. But she can't stop herself from wishing that he was being a little bit less of a gentleman at the moment.

“I thought that you had somewhere to go,” he whispers into her ear, trailing kisses down her neck.

She pushes against his coat, trying to slide it off. “I told you that I'm alright being late…” she murmurs, hearing his coat hit the floor a second later.

“How late?” he asks her.

“However late you want to be.” She smiles wickedly, her hands beneath the hem of his sweater now, tracing out the shape of his hip bone, and the flat planes of his stomach near the waistband of his pants.

“If we do this, you know there’s no going back to how things were before?”

 _I'm sort of counting on it,_ she thinks to herself, grinning.

He’s still protesting, but she can feel his hands fiddling with the end of her short dress, like he’s longing to push it up. Her hands are still mapping out the relatively unknown territory of his chest underneath his sweater, tracing out scar tissue, and then running her fingers over his nipples to see if he likes it.

Apparently he does, gasping into her mouth, and running his hands up along her inner thigh. “The zipper,” she tells him between kisses, “is in the back of the dress?”

“Mm, but patience is a virtue, Karen," Frank replies, still teasing her, and she tweaks one of his nipples in retribution.

He’s laughing against her skin, picking her up and carrying her off to the bedroom.

The rest, as they say, is history.

\---

_Foggy_

“Where do you think Karen is anyway?”

Foggy is looking up and down the sidewalk as if she’s just going to suddenly materialize from behind a lamp post. He hefts the baby carrier a little higher, looking over to see Matt smiling at him where he’s gripping his elbow. Even though Foggy doesn’t really need to lead him, he still seems to enjoy the physical contact.

“Are you nervous going in there with just the two of us?”

They pause in their steps, and it seems for a second as if they’re the only two people in the world. The snow is softly falling, and there aren’t even any cars driving down the street at the moment. It’s utterly quiet and still, like a bubble of peace that was made just for them.

“Nah, I’m not nervous.” He tries to start walking again, but Matt tugs on his arm, keeping him in place.

“I know we haven’t really talked about what we’re going to tell them,” Matt says. His face is serious behind his glasses, and he’s dressed up for the occasion in a suit and a nice black coat. He’s also wearing his ridiculously large scarf, which Foggy doesn’t have the heart to tell him often makes him look like an angry turtle.

It’s true that they hadn’t really talked about it. Most of the afternoon was spent lounging around, drinking coffee, and “watching tv.” If by “watching tv” one meant exchanging soft, slow kisses for hours on the couch while a movie played in the background. They had played with Ella too, sorting through some of the items from the Baby Warehouse and opening up some of the toys that they hadn't had time to use yet.

It had actually been very much like a real Christmas with Ella there playing on her little sensory mat. The mat let her lay on her stomach, and press against a bit false water with little fish and glitter trapped inside of it. If she pressed certain parts of it they rustled, or even played music. Foggy thought it was a bit like watching a cat chase a mouse, but apparently according to a quick Google search ‘tummy time’ was an important component of every baby’s development so they were supposed to encourage her.

“We don’t have to say anything at all if you don’t want to,” Foggy says, shuffling his feet.

“I’m not ashamed of you, Fog. And I’m not ashamed of us,” Matt replies. “But if you don’t want to tell them yet, we don’t have to. I just don’t want to make that decision based on fear.”

“What in the hell are you boys doing out here, anyway!”

Foggy nearly jumps out of his skin as Uncle Timmy comes out from seemingly nowhere, slapping him on the back. Matt doesn't seem startled though - he probably heard him coming from several blocks away. “Come on, counselors!” he yells back at them. “We’re all freezing our briefs off out here!” He turns back to them, as if suddenly seeing the baby carrier in Foggy’s arms. His breath comes out in little smoky puffs as it hits the cold air. “What in the hell are you doing with a baby, Franklin?”

Matt detangles from Foggy, pretending to stumble a bit as he makes his way up the steps. Timmy reaches his arm out for Matt to hold onto, and helps him navigate the ice. “That one belongs to me, Uncle Timmy,” he tells him, clutching onto his arm as if he really needs it.

“What, are you kidding me? When in the hell did you even have time for that anyway?”

Timmy pushes open the unlocked door, and they descend into the madness of the party. It seems like every single person wants to come over and see the new baby, poking and prodding her in a way that actually makes Foggy acutely uncomfortable.

“She’s gonna get germs, Matt,” he whispers in his ear as a second cousin twice removed sneezes inches from Ella’s face.

“Foggy, I don’t want to gross you out, but there are so many many germs in the air than you will ever realize,” Matt whispers back.

“Sometimes your senses disgust me, Murdock.”

“Mm…” Matt seems to have become a bit distracted by how close they’re standing together, his nose almost brushing up against Foggy’s cheek.

Foggy swallows, trying to resist the urge to press up closer.

“Franklin! There you are, I’ve been looking all over for you!”

He can’t resist giving a guilty jump, wishing his family members would stop sneaking up on him.

“Just look for the crowd, and you’ll find us Anna,” Matt says, hugging her and giving her a kiss on her cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas to you, too, Matt.” Anna hugs Foggy next, pulling him in close and kissing him. She looks over at the parade of relatives who are all passing the baby back and forth like a prize ham. “So…. you two look awfully cozy over here in your corner.”

She raises an eyebrow at them, and Foggy can’t hold back his groan. Not even two days into this new… whatever-it-is, and he’s already going to have to share it with his family.

“Mrs. Nelson, I’ve decided that I’m taking your son away,” Matt tells her, choosing the humorous route. “I hope you can find it in your heart to someday forgive me.”

Anna shakes a finger at him, “Ahh, you’re a tricky one, Matthew, you always have been.” She gives him another hug, and a kiss that leaves a lipstick imprint on his cheek. Then she gives him a playful slap on his cheek before walking over to claim Ella for herself.

She walks around the party, showing the baby off while still keeping her a bit further away from people with drippy noses and stuffy sinuses. “So apparently that’s how it’s done,” Matt says.

He must know the lipstick is there, but he hasn’t done anything about it, so Foggy reaches out and brushes it away with a napkin that he swipes off a nearby table. “Well now that that’s over with, how about some food?”

\---

_Frank_

“I just have to say before we go in there that I don’t think this is a good idea,” Frank says. Karen is leading him by the hand into the crush of the Nelson family party. It’s warm inside, verging on uncomfortably hot, and he tugs on the collar of his sweater nervously. The smell of good food and alcohol hits him, throwing him back in time.

He hadn’t come from any kind of family himself, not really. Both of his parents had passed away while he was still in high school, which was part of why he had been so eager to enroll for his first tour. But Maria had been part of a large, extended family just like the Nelson clan. It was part of what had drawn him to her, when they were first dating. Sure, he had loved her too, but the family was all part and parcel of what he loved about her. Her family had been a key piece of her identity, embedded somewhere in her soul... And It doesn't seem like Nelson is any different.

“Ah, Karen! I see you’re still working with these two thankless shmoes!”

A white haired man wearing a brown and plaid shirt with a ridiculous reindeer sweater over it pulls Karen into a fierce bear hug. “Yeah, well it’s pretty inescapable at this point,” she tells him.

“Still the most beautiful girl in the room, aren’t yah? And who’s this who you brought with you?” Timmy shoots Frank a dubious glance. “He looks like one of those new fangled hipsters we got runnin' around the city these days.”

“Uncle Timmy, this is Pete.” She gestures at him, and Frank takes his cue to shake Timmy’s hand.

“Pete Castiglione, sir, pleased to meet you.”

“Timmy Nelson, yah can call me Uncle Timmy if you want. You in the legal business too?”

“No, no, uh… I’m between gigs at the moment, actually.”

Timmy raises an eyebrow at him. “Yah aren’t a grifter are yah? Karen’s a real good girl, you know that, right? You have to treat her with respect.”

“Of course, sir. That’s a will do.”

Frank looks over at Karen, and she smiles reassuringly at him. “I think we’re going to get some food now, Timmy. But we’ll be around if you want to find us later.”

“Have you see this baby that your friend Murdock has now? Bee-yoo-tiful.”

“She’s a looker, that’s for sure.” Karen is tugging him away from Timmy, dragging him towards a table covered with food of every kind imaginable.

“Well, that went smoothly,” Frank grumbles. He sees Matt walking towards them, and adds, “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

“Karen,” Matt says as he approaches. “And, uh…”

He pauses, and Frank jumps in. “Pete Castiglione, pleased to meet you. You must be Matt Murdock, right? You work with Karen at the office, don’t you? I’ve heard a lot about you, so much that I feel like I know you already.” The two of them shake hands as if just meeting for the first time, and he sees Karen cover up a wide smile by putting her hand over her mouth.

“Very pleased to meet you… Pete.” Matt tilts his head towards her, then gestures back at the tables. “Would you like a drink? We’ve got a spot at the table on the end over there. We should have room for both of you to join us. If you want, that is.”

That sounds great, actually.” Frank puts his hands in his jean pockets, following Murdock over to a table where Nelson is sitting next to a baby carrier.

Frank peers down into the carrier, but it seems as if it’s empty. He feels as if a knife is twisting in his gut, something about the emptiness of it tugging at his heart strings. “Hey Foggy,” Matt says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Karen brought a friend for us to meet.”

Nelson is staring at the both of them as if he’s in shock, but he recovers quickly, standing and pro-offering his hand for Frank to shake. “Foggy Nelson,” he says, “nice to meet you…” he stumbles over the name, just like Murdock did. “Pete.” He looks over at the other man, and it's then that he notices that Murdock hasn’t let go of his friend’s shoulder, just dropped his hand from his shoulder to his elbow.

_Interesting, very interesting._

“And here’s the baby!” A woman with curly hair approaches, jiggling what must be Murdock’s baby in her arms. “She’s getting a bit fussy, so I thought I would return her to her daddy.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely going to fix it,” he grumbles, but he takes the baby into his arms. He's trying to bounce her, but mostly he just looks uncomfortable.

“Can I, uh…” Frank is gesturing at him, then realizes that they’re all supposed to be pretending that Red really can’t see what he’s doing, and he freezes.

“Do you want to hold her, Pete?” he asks him, giving a laugh. “It seems like everybody does.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, who is this?” the woman asks.

“This is, uh… Pete, Mrs. Nelson. He’s my, uh…” again Karen pauses, as if unsure of what to call him.

“Oh, a boyfriend, how wonderful!” She claps her hands together, and Frank is putting it together that this must be Nelson’s mother. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Pete.” And with that, she pulls him into a warm hug, and somehow, in spite of how tall he is, she kisses his cheek. He can’t really remember the last time he was hugged like this, just a platonic, motherly hug. He hopes that Nelson realizes just how lucky he is.

Even though he knows very well that Murdock can’t see, him and Nelson seem to be having some sort of rapid non-verbal conversation about Frank holding the baby. Murdock frowns at Nelson in the end, as if to say, _I’m doing this._ And with that, Murdock is transferring the baby over to him, and yes, he remembers this. The feeling of a small, new life in his arms, her tiny legs kicking under the blanket that she’s wrapped in. She’s wearing a one piece fleece outfit that’s probably meant to be a sleeper, but which looks warm and cozy. It’s decorated with dancing Santa Claus’s with red noses and ornaments against a green background.

Her eyes look up at him, black like a drowning pool. He remembers Murdock on a rooftop, a woman with hair as dark as midnight dying in his arms… surely that couldn’t be her mother? She died, didn't she?

“You seem like you know what you’re doing, Pete,” Mrs. Nelson says, beaming up at him.

“Yeah, I have some experience with kids,” Frank says, and Karen bites her lip. “You know, cousins and all that. I hope it’s okay that I’m holding her, ma’am.”

“Ah, call me Anna,” she saves, waving off his protests. “And I’m just glad to see everyone pairing off at last, I’ve been so worried about all of you. You're getting too old to not be settled, especially you Franklin…”

Frank looks over at Murdock, who seems to be turning a bit red. So there really is something going on there, after all. There’s a holler from someone who needs Anna in the kitchen, and she disappears as quickly as she arrived, leaving Karen making a truly hysterical face at her two friends. “So….” she says, drawing the word out. “Is there something that you both want to tell me?”

Murdock pushes his glasses up his nose, and Nelson coughs to clear his throat. “Well, Karen, we uh…”

“Were you both together before Foggy moved in or after?” Karen presses, going for the jugular like the well-trained journalist that she is.

“Are you two living together?” Frank can’t help but blurt out.

“Yeah, we uh…” Murdock shrugs, “it just sort of happened. And after, Karen.”

“So you were together as of...?” Karen asks, holding out her arms for the baby. Frank frowns at her, holding Ella closer to his chest with a proprietary air.

“As of last night,” Foggy replies, and Frank swears that Murdock goes as red as a tomato, his blush even touching the tips his ears.

Karen laughs, giving up on holding the baby, and picking up a whiskey glass from the table instead. “This yours?” she asks Matt, heedless of who might notice, and ask why she’s asking a blind man about something that he shouldn’t be able to see.

He’s barely said yes before Karen is downing the rest of it. She places the glass down back on the table with a loud thump. “And you’re still planning on living together?”

Frank could swear that they’re looking at each other again, although in Murdock’s case it’s more of a head tilt than anything else. “I don’t see why not,” he says.  
  
She heaves another pained sigh, as if to say _What can you do?_ "Well then, I guess congratulations are in order. I would toast you, but my glass appears to be empty."

“Trust me, where my family is concerned, there’s always plenty more alcohol,” Nelson responds. “I’m going to get another whiskey neat for Matt, I know what I want, and Karen - New Castle?” she just nods, and, almost hesitantly, he turns to Frank. “Pete, what can I get for you?”

“I can do whiskey,” Frank says, shooting a grin at Murdock, who once again creepily seems to realize what he’s doing, and honest-to-god smiles back. Nelson’s eyes flicker between all three of them as if he’s utterly confused to have found himself in this particular place and time with all of these strange people, and then he just shakes his head a bit as if to clear it, and walks off to the bar.

“There’s food, too,” Murdock says, taking a seat after making a show of fumbling around for one.

Karen gestures at one of the empty chairs, and Frank sits next to her. In his arms, Ella gives a tiny yawn, and shuts her eyes. Karen seems to be laughing at him, or maybe at the whole crazy situation in general. “She’s about to take a nap on you.”

“Apparently she has very good taste,” Frank says, grinning at her.

“Foggy’s mother seems like she’s in love with Ella,” Karen adds, looking over to where Anna is eagerly pointing them out to some of Foggy’s distant relatives who have just walked in and are taking off their coats.

“So I says to him, I says, 'if you think I’m accepting that price, you’re a crazy man…'” Nelson has returned with two whiskeys and two beers, trailed by a man with long wavy blond hair who is making emphatic gestures with his hands. He slides the whiskeys over to Frank and Matt, and hands Karen her beer.

“Yeah well, the meat business is a cut throat one,” Nelson replies, “you have to stay on your toes.”

“You know, that’s the trouble with you, I can never tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” the man says, taking a swig of the beer that he’s carrying in his hand.

“With Foggy I think it's pretty safe to just assume that he's being sarcastic all of the time,” Murdock says with a smirk. “Another one of his talents is that he’s incredibly good at first introductions.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s right, sorry! This is Karen’s boyfriend, Pete, Pete this is Theo, my brother.”

Frank stands up to shake Theo’s hand, leaning across the table to do so. Theo frowns at him, looking him up and down, and his heart sinks as he sees a flutter of recognition pass over his features. “Anyone ever tell you that you look like that Frank Castle fellow?”

There’s absolute silence for a second, and Nelson’s face behind his brother looks stricken with fear. But Frank just gives a hearty chuckle, and shoots back, “Yeah, that asshole is a distant cousin of mine, actually. Crazy world, isn’t it?”

“Cousins, wow,” Theo replies, apparently satisfied with this explanation. “Did you know each other when you were kids?”

He shakes his head, “Nah, never really associated with his family. My parents thought they were a bit weird, you know, issues right from the start with that one.”

“I can imagine.” Theo nods his head solemnly, then moves on to examining the baby, gushing his disbelief that anyone would just leave a baby on a doorstep in this day and age. Shortly after that he’s distracted by some other relatives who are playing a drinking game, and a palpable air of relief descends over their table when they’re alone again. Well, as alone as four grown adults can be at a Christmas Party.

“Well, that was a close one,” Nelson says, tagging a swig of his nearly empty drink.

“Ah, people see what they want to see.” Frank shrugs, turning to look at Murdock. “So, you retiring then?”

“From Nelson, Murdock, and Page? I don’t see why.”

Frank rolls his eyes at him, “You know what I mean, smart ass.”

“And you think a Christmas Party is the right venue for…” he pauses in his reply, “Anna’s coming back,” he tells all of them. “I think she has a gift for Ella.”

Nelson turns around, grimacing. “She probably has gifts for all of us, knowing her. Except maybe for you Frah - Pete.”

It turns out that she does have a gift for Ella, more than one in fact. She has several outfits, each cuter than the last, a musical toy that’s supposed to make babies magically smarter, and soothe and glow giraffe that she swears is the hottest baby gift of the year. She also has gifts for the rest of the trio: A sweater for Matt, because she wants to see him in more than just suits, dangly silver earrings for Karen, because she thinks they would look wonderful on her, and for her son she has a new watch that actually looks pretty expensive.

All three of them complain that it’s too much, but she waves off their concerns with a practiced air. “If you’re around next year dear,” she tells Frank, “I’ll get you something nice too.” She leans down to whisper in his ear, “And from the look on Karen’s face, I don’t have any doubts that I’ll be seeing you quite often, my dear.”

“Mom, Theo and I have something for you too, it’s in the kitchen.” Nelson steers her away from Frank as if he thinks she might be bothering him, waving to his brother to come join them.

“What’d he get her?” Frank asks Murdock. Karen is still gesturing at him that she wants to hold Ella, and he gives in to the inevitable, passing her over with a reluctant sigh. Ella’s been mostly sleeping this entire time, and she wakes up a bit as she’s passed over, making a confused face before settling on Karen’s chest.

“Some clothes and jewelry, boots, usual stuff.” Murdock is fiddling with his empty glass, running his fingers around the rim of it. “He got something for you too, Karen, but I’m afraid we may have forgotten it in the apartment.”

“Oh shit,” she exclaims. Ella cracks an eye open, and then shuts it again when no further cursing follows. “I also, uh… may have forgotten some things in my apartment.”

“Well, you know how distractions are.” He’s grinning at them like the Cheshire Cat, and Karen groans.

“We didn’t really have time to shower,” she protests, and Frank realizes that he can probably smell exactly how happy they made each other earlier in the day.

“So I smell,” he chortles, and she slaps his arm with her hand.

“That is a frightening talent,” Frank says, “also I think I’d like another whiskey. And maybe some food, that ham looks delicious.”

He’s been scoping out the plates that other people are carrying around, and he can’t wait to get his hands on some of the ham that’s being passed around, and maybe some of that pie.

“You should go get some, they always have way too much left over after,” Murdocks tells him. When he stands up, he adds: “Bring me a whiskey, would you?”

“I look like a delivery service to you?” Frank is just kidding though, and he just slaps him on the back as he passes by with a reassuring, “Don’t worry, I’ll get it.”

He’s pretty sure that the conversation will get a lot more interesting after he leaves.

\---

_Matt_

“Frank Castle? Seriously, of all people, she wants to date the Punisher?”

Matt grimaces, setting down his whiskey glass on the living room table. Foggy has been going on like this since they got home, pacing and talking nearly non-stop. Ella was asleep when they brought her home from the party, and they shifted her from her carrier to her crib without waking her, which was nothing short of a miracle. He’s sure she’ll be up and demanding a bottle later, but right now they’re just letting her sleep.

“It’s her decision, Foggy.”

“Of course it’s her decision, I just don’t get why…”

“It’s not like I haven’t also done some questionable things in my past, Fog.”

Foggy stops in his pacing to turn towards him. “You’ve never killed anyone, Matt.”

“And you think the courts would find that very convincing if I ever went to trial?”

He can hear his friend swallow thickly as he follows that train of thought to it’s logical, chilling conclusion. “This isn’t about you!”

“Karen’s a big girl, we have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.” A groan of frustration at that, and the sound of more pacing. “Look, you are going to wear a hole in the floor.” Matt stands up, walking over to him, hesitating for a moment before reaching out, and putting his arms around Foggy.

He pulls him into a tight hug, feeling his heart pounding. “I’m just afraid for her,” Foggy admits. “What does this mean for her future? Are they going to get married, have kids…”

“Not everyone wants to do those things,” Matt says, breathing in the smell that is uniquely Foggy.

He hears another long breath exhaled, and he can feel Foggy’s nose somewhere near his ear. “I think this may have been the first year since I met you that I didn’t get you something for Christmas.”

Matt quirks an eyebrow at that, “Well, I wouldn’t say that you gave me nothing…”

Foggy swats him playfully. “You are such an asshole, Murdock. Why do I put up with you again?”

A kiss is really the only appropriate response to that, so that’s what he does, Foggy groaning into it and pulling him closer. “Can we put that crib in the living room tomorrow?” he asks.

Matt snickers at that, shutting him up with another kiss. “Maybe we could put a bed in the living room,” he suggests.

“So long as there’s a bed somewhere that doesn’t involve a sleeping baby, I think we’ll be good.”

Matt’s hands trail down the front of Foggy’s chest, tracing a downward pattern that winds up with his hands under Foggy’s sweater. “Isn’t necessity the mother of invention?” He’s pulling Foggy’s sweater off now, and he can feel Foggy undoing the buttons on his shirt in return.

“I don’t think this is exactly the sort of situation that they they were referring to when they coined that phrase, Matt,” Foggy tells him, ducking his head to suck a kiss against the pulse point in his neck. He wants to protest that he’s going to get a hickey, but the sudden stiffness in his pants is short circuiting all of his brain power.

“You still have that lube around here, don’t you?” he asks, feeling Foggy’s smile against his neck.

“Not only do I know where it is, I have a great idea what do with it,” he replies, his hand tracing the outline of Matt’s cock, which is still trapped in his pants. He pushes himself forward eagerly, and Foggy grips him hard, forcing a moan from his lips.

They wind up with Foggy on the bottom and Matt on the top, Foggy jerking the both of them off as they rub against each other. “This was a genius idea,” Matt gasps, shoving himself up against Foggy’s hardness, feeling the slip and slide of his fingers and palm against his cock.

“All of my ideas are genius,” Foggy retorts, and Matt snorts, wanting to object. But he finds himself flipped onto his back, being kissed fiercely. He reaches down between them, mimicking Foggy’s previous motions, rewarded by a string of curses from the other man.

“You going to come all over me again?” Matt asks him when he hears the racing of his heart pick up.

“Yes…” Foggy’s mouth is open, panting, his breath hot on Matt’s ear. He comes moments later, hot liquid flooding between them when he climaxes. Matt feels his hand on his cock then, tracing him up and down.

“Gonna make you come too,” Foggy tells him, and Matt can feel his teeth on his neck. “Want to make you feel as good as I do.”

Matt wants to say _yes, please_ but all that comes out is a moan. He feels Foggy’s hand tracing up and down his shaft, tugging on the sensitive head before shifting back down again. He can feel his hand lower now, tugging at his balls, and he shifts his leg, hitching it up more so that he can give him room. He’s stroking his perineum, and Matt jerks as he traces the outline of his hole.

“Are you… what are you…”

“Do you remember what you said last night, about trusting me?”

Matt’s heart is thudding in his chest. “Always?” he says it like the question it is.

“Yeah. Do you trust me? To make you feel good?” There’s a moment of hesitation, and Foggy rushes on: “You can say no if you want to, Matt. All I want is to touch you.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Then we can stop.”

He gives a long shudder, feeling more nervous than he did the first time he actually did lose his virginity. “Okay.”

And then Foggy is kissing him, putting more lube on his cock, rubbing him up and down. He isn’t quite sure what’s supposed to feel better than this, just being stroked, but it’s not like he can’t say no at any point if he doesn’t like it... They have a tiny bit of awkward shifting to tilt his body, and a pillow is hastily shoved beneath him. Slick fingers are gently pressing against his entrance, and he feels vulnerable and exposed. He can't help but wonder how ridiculous he looks like this. Foggy apparently seems to be enjoying the view though, murmuring some sort of nonsense about how beautiful he looks as he gently strokes his opening. It’s not unpleasant, and there are definitely nerves tingling that he never knew that he had before, like a massage of…

“Oh,” he gasps when Foggy pushes a finger in him, quickly followed by another. It’s a bit of an odd feeling, not quite like anything he’s ever experienced before. It’s strange in the novelty of it, so many sexual acts that he’s taken part in before and yet… “Fuck,” he grits out when Foggy presses his fingers up against him in a particular way, his fingers on Foggy’s shoulders tightening as the intense sensation zips through him. He feels Foggy’s fingers push in and out of him, pressing up again, and he can’t quite contain the loud and embarrassing noise that he makes at that. There’s more lube then, and a third finger, and he whimpers, feeling like he’s coming apart. He nearly bites Foggy’s shoulder where it’s pressed up against him, settling for sucking a hot kiss against his neck instead.

“You wanna come?” Foggy whispers into his ear, and Matt just makes a desperate noise against him. “Jerk yourself off Matt, I wanna see you get yourself off while I fuck you with my fingers.”

He doesn’t need to be told that twice, gripping his cock and stroking himself with a strong sense of relief. Foggy’s fingers are still working him, and the dual sensations are almost too much, nearly overwhelming him. He comes with a loud cry, shocking himself and probably some of his neighbors as well.

He feels fingers sliding gently out of him, and he can sense Foggy’s face above him as he struggles to get air back into his lungs. “You doing okay?” Foggy asks him, and he can hear something smug in his voice.

“Oh my God,” he says, shutting his eyes and trying to slow his hammering heart rate.

“Not bad, huh?”

The fingers are gone, but he still feels open in some way, as if something in him has essentially shifted. He says the only word that he thinks is appropriate, “Fuck.” And then he says it again, because one wasn’t enough, “Fuck.”

“That’s a lot of blasphemy, Murdock. You might want to be careful there.”

 _What an asshole,_ Matt thinks to himself, dragging him down for a kiss.

\---

_Karen_

Somewhere a few blocks away, Karen is also shocking some of her neighbors, crying out as she comes with Frank’s face between her inner thighs. She pulls him back up to her by his hair, having found a wonderful use for the new length of it as a means of guiding him towards what she wants. She slides a leg up over his thigh, feeling the hot, hard length of him teasing her before pushing into her at last. Earlier in the afternoon, they made love fast and furious, but this evening has been slower, something more purposeful in their actions other than just animal instinct taking over. He pulls out and slides in again, making her cry out.

He’s going slowly, definitely drawing it out, and she feels wildly like this might just go on forever. Or maybe she just hopes that it will.

She can taste herself on his tongue, their kisses becoming less frequent as his pace increases. She feels as if something is unwinding within her as he thrusts, like she’s going to come again or maybe just explode into a thousand pieces. He shifts, raising her hips a bit and tilting her. It’s a bit too far to kiss, but the angle is making stars explode in her brain. She looks up at him from underneath hooded eyelids, seeing his eyes intent upon her, drinking her in. With someone else, she might be too embarrassed, but with him… Her fingers find her clitoris, stroking in time to his thrusts, and it’s so perfect that she finds herself clenching around him and biting her lip to try to keep from screaming.

“Oh yes, please,” he’s saying, “come for me again… so sexy, Karen…”

He watches as she strokes herself, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic as she feels his cock stiffen until he feels as hard as marble. Her eyes fall shut and her head tilts back as she orgasms, a wave of heat making her neck and chest blush pink.

He’s coming moments later, calling out to her before nearly collapsing on top of her. He reaches down to kiss her again before drawing out carefully. He ties off the condom that they used, and throws it into a nearby garbage. And then he’s kissing her again, like he’s sucking in air from her lungs, and he’s desperate for it.

“You’re staying, right?” she asks him eventually, trying to smooth down his hair that’s now wildly sticking up from all of the times that she’s pulled on it.

“You want me to stay over?” He frowns at her, a tiny crease between his brows that she wants to smooth away. “Are you sure?”

“Please.”

He smiles at her, raising her hand up to kiss her fingertips. “Your wish, as always, is my command.”


	12. Epilogue: New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A New Year's Eve date ends very well for Matt and Foggy, but a new threat may be looming on the horizon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all, sorry that this epilogue has taken a bit to get out. I was incredibly sick this past week, and could barely get out of bed let alone get any writing done. But here it is, I hope you all enjoy this bit of PWP-ness, and that you stick around for Part 2, which you can get here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17326280/chapters/40759967.

“Give me a second! Gotta put the key in the…”

The rest of Foggy’s words are cut off by the press of Matt’s mouth against his, shoving him up against the apartment doorway. The keys themselves nearly wind up on the ground, but he manages to hold onto them even as he’s being kissed within an inch of his life. He clenches the keys in his fist, feeling the hard line of Matt’s thigh rubbing up against him from the front and the doorjamb cutting into him from behind.

“Are you really sure,” he asks, as Matt moves his mouth steadily along his jawline towards his neck, “that this is the right, ah! The right place for this?”

He’s barely finished speaking before one of the nearby apartment doors is swinging open, loud music and conversation spilling into the hallway as two girls stumble out, arms balanced precariously around each other. Even though he knows some of Matt's neighbors, Foggy has no idea who these particular girls are, or who the real owners of the apartment are right now. For some indefinable reason, that apartment seems to host a revolving door of characters, each one stranger than the last.

The girls spot them, hiding giggles behind their hands. Foggy heaves a sigh, but Matt is already kissing him again, even though he knows very well that they have an audience. They move on quickly though, tottering away on high heels to another New Year’s Eve party or maybe even towards home.

Foggy manages to push Matt aside with a laugh, turning around to fit the key to the lock. “Look, you might have an exhibitionistic streak I don’t know about, but I would prefer for my sex life to remain private…”

Matt is running his hands over his back, and biting his ear. “Well, hurry up and open the damn door then,” he urges, and the tiny bit of profanity has Foggy shivering agreeably and pushing back against him.

The door swings open abruptly, their combined weight pushing it open rapidly with a squeal of rusty hinges. They stumble inside like the world’s most awkward octopus, Matt still clinging to Foggy’s back, his arms around Foggy’s shoulders, and his mouth on his neck.

“How drunk are you?” Foggy chuckles, trying to shake him off, “And what are you even doing?’

Matt’s laughing too, disentangling himself, and shutting the door with a loud bang. They’re both panting and out of breath, Matt leaning up against the closed doorway, Foggy watching him from the other side of the hall. “So,” Foggy says casually, “I’m assuming you hustled us out of that restaurant early so that we could come back and catch the Rockin’ New Years Eve Countdown, right?”

He’s shaking his head at Foggy, giving a dark laugh before walking across the hallway to him, pulling him in by his tie for another heated kiss. “I think you know exactly what I want from you.”

"If you’re trying to marry me for my health insurance plan, then you’re going to be disappointed. That guy that I work with is a total cheapskate.”

An answering chuckle: “Oh no, you’ve ruined my clever plan.”

The apartment itself is dark except for the illumination from the billboard across the street, and the hallway leading into it is darker still. But he can feel Matt’s nimble fingers working at the knot of his tie, slipping it free from his neck and letting it pool on the floor, then going to work on the buttons of his shirt. He can feel the buttons slipping free one by one, and cool fingers running up against his bare skin afterwards. His shirt joins his suit and tie on the floor, Matt’s hungry mouth tracing the outline of first one nipple and then his other. He’s got a hand fisted in Matt’s hair, desperately hoping that this is going where he thinks it is. Matt has already taken off the dark glasses that he wore to dinner, probably secreting them in an inner suit pocket somewhere so that they don’t get destroyed.

And then he’s sliding to his knees in front of Foggy, unbuckling his pants and cupping him through his boxers after he slides his pants off. At the first touch of Matt’s lips on his actual cock head, Foggy’s head crashes back into the wall so hard that he sees stars for a minute. He can feel him pull back a tiny bit, and he grips his hair tighter, the words “Please don’t stop,” falling out before he can stop them. After that, Matt’s mouth is back on him, and he isn’t thinking about much else except for the fact that this might be the best New Year’s Eve of his life.

In the dim light, he can see Matt’s mouth working as he sucks him down, pulling out to trace the underside of his cock with his tongue, chasing the gaspy breaths and sighs that Foggy makes with repeat motions. Matt has always had a beautiful mouth, and the sight of him kneeling there, tonguing at his cock head is almost too much. And for some reason the fact that he's still fully clothed while Foggy is standing there naked is so strangely erotic that he can’t keep back his appreciative moan.

How he’s going to be able to go back to the office in a few days and think clearly he has no idea. The sudden image of Matt under his desk sucking him off comes to him, and he bites his lip to try to stop himself from coming right then and there.

He's so distracted that he barely notices that Matt is rising to his feet, following along like a zombie as he kisses him on his mouth and tugs him towards the darkened bedroom. Foggy pushes at Matt’s suit jacket, pulling it off and tossing it somewhere near the couch. “What are you thinking about?” he asks between kisses. “I think they can hear your heart racing all the way in Jersey.”

Foggy feels his face flushing, and he can tell that his ears must be burning pink. “Nothing…” he says, pulling Matt’s shirt out of his pants, trying to distract him by placing the flat of his palm against his rising erection.

They fall on the bed together side by side, Matt still wearing his pants. “Tell me,” Matt says, rolling on top of him, and …

“Are you tickling me?” Foggy demands, trying to catch his hands. “That’s not… we’re having sex right now, you can’t just…”

“Tell me what you were thinking about in the hallway…” Matt laughs as Foggy flips them so that he’s on top, and pinning Matt’s hands down with his own.

“I was thinking of you,” Foggy tells him, sucking a hot kiss on his neck at the juncture that always seems to makes Matt squirm. “At work, wearing your suit and tie... kneeling under my desk, sucking me off while I work.”

Matt moans, his fingers tightening around Foggy’s where they’re threaded together. “Yes…” Foggy gives him a playful bite on his neck, and Matt presses up against him again with a noise that sounds strangely like a mewl. He works Matt's pants open, stroking his hot erection through his underpants before tugging them off, and throwing them off somewhere in the darkness.

He looks up at Matt from down near his feet, laid out on the bed like some sort of Greek statue. His stomach is rising and falling rapidly with his breaths, and Foggy knows from experience now what each of those scars feels like not only under his fingertips but also the trace of his tongue as well. He runs his fingers along Matt’s skin along his thigh and up his stomach before leaning over him and capturing his mouth in another kiss.

Matt groans, throwing a leg over Foggy’s hip, their erections brushing together. They’ve done this before - used lube to rub up against each other until they both orgasm, usually with the assistance of a hand or two. So Foggy reaches up in the drawer where they keep the lube, spreading it over first himself and then Matt, slotting them against each other with what's starting to feel like the ease of familiarity.

He’s a bit surprised when Matt grips his hand when he starts stroking, stilling his motions. “Do you… do you want to do something else?” Foggy asks, feeling unsure about why they've stopped.

“Will you…” Matt pauses, also seeming to feel unsure of himself. It’s dark, but Foggy can make out a distinct flush on his cheekbones that seems to be more than just the natural exertion that comes with good sex. “On Christmas, when we…” He pauses again, swallowing. “Can we do that again?”

“You mean when I used my fingers on you?” Foggy feels his cock twitch as he remembers what it was like, but he tries to tell quell his excitement. Since that night Matt hasn't even mentioned it, and Foggy certainly didn't want to be the first one to bring it up. But if he wants to try it again, he definitely isn't going to say no... “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Matt tells him, his nose brushing up against Foggy’s.

“And you’ll tell me if I hurt you, right?” he can’t help but ask, fussing around to find a pillow to put underneath Matt’s hips.

“You worry an awful lot,” Matt says, but Foggy cuts him off with a kiss.

He doesn’t say what he feels is obvious - that he wants Matt to enjoy himself, and to feel the kind of pleasure that Foggy thinks that he deserves, which is basically everything. “Promise me,” he murmurs instead, and he can feel Matt’s whispered assurance back against his skin.

He strokes Matt’s cock a few more times before sliding his fingers backwards, Matt’s legs hitched up higher to provide more room. He traces the outline of his entrance, stroking the pucker and adding lubricant to his fingers before slipping one and then two fingers inside of him. Foggy twists his fingers, searching for his prostate. When he finds it, Matt makes a soft gasp below him, rocking back on his fingers in a way that makes Foggy’s cock stiffen even more.

The angle is difficult for kissing, but Matt tries to pull him down anyway, and Foggy slips a third finger in, stretching him open and brushing up against his prostate with light, teasing touches. Apparently Matt isn’t in the mood for teasing though, making a high pitched whining noise and whispering, “More,” against Foggy’s skin.

“More fingers? I can…”

“No,” Matt says, shaking his head. “More as in, fuck me.”

“Are you really sure you’re ready for that? We don’t have to…” He feels like his head is spinning, and he isn’t sure that Matt really knows what he’s asking. They had more than a few drinks with dinner, and he doesn’t want him to wake up with a head full of regret about things that he can’t take back.

“Please, Foggy,” Matt is rocking on his fingers, and he looks so wanton that Foggy wants nothing more than to descend on him like a sex crazed lunatic.

“My cock is a bit bigger than my fingers, Matt,” he protests, drawing his fingers out and looking down at Matt as if he’s going to have some sort of answer printed across his face.

“God, I hope so,” Matt replies, groaning. “There’s condoms in the drawer, you know.”

“I don’t want you to have any regrets.”

“You think that this is going to be the thing in my life that I regret?” Matt laughs, drawing him down for a proper kiss. “I won’t regret it, you know. I want it, please.”

The please nearly undoes him, and he bites his lip, crawling over to the drawer to find the condom box near where they keep the lube. His heart is pounding as he unrolls one and puts it on, stroking himself with lubricant after it’s rolled on. He feels nervous, like Matt is the one about to penetrate him rather than the other way around. He just wants so badly for this to be something that Matt enjoys, and he’s afraid of what could happen if that doesn’t wind up being the case.

Matt runs a hand up his chest, and it has a semi calming effect on him. “Breath,” Matt says to him, smiling up at him.

Foggy can’t help but smile back, leaning down to kiss him. “I feel like I should be the one saying that to you.”

And then he’s positioning himself at Matt’s entrance, feeling that tight heat against his cock head, and wondering if he’s going to be able to control himself at all once he's inside. The first push has Matt gritting his teeth, and he gasps loudly when Foggy pushes his way in, sliding out gently and pushing himself back again. Matt is hot and perfect around Foggy’s cock, and he feels insanely like he might be about to orgasm already.

Matt’s legs are tight around him, and Foggy tilts himself, angling for his prostate again, a strangled curse a pretty good indication that he’s finally hit on it. He grins and slides up against it again, prompting another exclamation from Matt. He leans down, fighting the awkward angle to kiss Matt. It’s an open mouthed, filthy kiss, and he pulls back from it to start pumping against him in earnest, sliding in and out of that perfect heat, and praying that he can make it last a little while longer.

They’re both sweat slicked and panting before long, and Foggy can feel his orgasm rising up within him ages before it hits him. He reaches over to take the lube bottle and pushes it into Matt’s hand. “Stroke yourself,” he tells him. Matt eagerly uncaps the lube bottle, liberally pouring some of it onto himself before taking his stiff cock into his hand, and jerking himself in time with Foggy’s thrusts.

Foggy is mesmerized watching him, his erection disappearing and reappearing with each stroke, the veins in his neck working as he strains. “Fuck, Foggy,” he groans, his wrist twisting around his cock head at the end of each stroke now. It’s clear that he’s getting close, and Foggy can feel his own orgasm building.

He makes an encouraging noise, and moments later he hears Matt cry out, and hot liquid spatters between them in spurts. Foggy feels his own rhythm falter, and he doubles his pace, driving into Matt without much thought for being gentle anymore. His orgasm comes in a blinding rush of blood pumping in his ears, and it leaves him gasping for air and drenched in sweat like he’s just run a marathon.

For a few seconds all he can do is lay on top of Matt and try to breath, before he comes back to himself and tries to pull out gently, making sure that the condom is intact when he does so. He pinches it off and throws it somewhere in the direction of the garbage. Matt is laying on his back, sweat glistening on his body. Foggy thinks that sweat just makes Matt looks more attractive, whereas on him sweat always just makes him feel like a bit of a slob.

His eyes are shut as if he’s already fallen asleep, and Foggy’s heart constricts with worry as he lays back down beside him, pushing some of his bangs back from his forehead. “You doing okay?” he asks.

Matt’s eyes flutter back open, and he gives him a small smile. “Yeah, I’m fine, Fog, really. That was just… quite an experience.”

“An experience as in, ‘horrific and I’m never doing it again,’ or ‘strange and off putting,’ or…”

Matt is definitely laughing at him now, propping himself up on an elbow to look over at Foggy laying beside him. “I think I liked it a lot, actually, even though I wasn’t sure that I would. Did you… when you’ve slept with other men, have you ever… tried it?”

Foggy flops down on his back, unsure of how exactly to answer that question. He decides to go with honesty, because that’s pretty much his default, and he feels like Matt deserves it. “I tried it once or twice.” He shrugs, trying to keep the loaded question casual. “It was never really my thing though. But I've known a lot of other men, and some women besides that, who love it. It's all just a personal preference.”

“Hm.” Matt’s face is full of serious lines, as if he’s trying to process something.

“I would let you try it with me though,” Foggy offers, “if you want to see what it’s like from the other side.”

A frown, as if Matt can't quite figure out that last statement. “Why would I want to do something to you that you don’t like?”

“In case you…” what are the right words here, anyway? “In case you miss it. From being with women… not that it’s the same, because it isn’t. But I know this is all new to you, and I don’t know if you’re going to…”

“Going to what? Change my mind?” Matt’s scowl says quite clearly what he thinks of that absurd idea. “Foggy, I’m not going to get sick of you. And your gender doesn't matter to me. You know that, right?”

Somewhere logically his brain can hear what Matt is saying, but the sick lurch in his stomach is still there, gnawing away at the calm words and replacing them with the clammy hand of anxiety. Matt can seem to sense his unease, leaning over to press his lips against Foggy’s. He’s a warm and steadying presence, and Foggy can hear the steady beat of his heart pressed up against the hand that he’s laid on his chest.

“We should shower,” Foggy suggests, and Matt murmurs happily against his lips.

He winces a tiny bit when they stand up, waving off Foggy, who tries to grip him by the elbow as if he’s going to help him up. They make their way into the bathroom, Foggy flipping on the light because even if Matt can see in the dark like a bat, he definitely can’t and he’s going to slip and fall to his death if he can’t see.

“I’m going to have to make sure to thank your mother for watching Ella for us tonight,” Matt says as they soap up in the shower, hot water running over their skin. "We probably wouldn't have been able to do this otherwise." 

“You’re going to thank her? Maybe I should be the one to do that,” Foggy laughs, pulling Matt against him for another kiss. He feels happy and love drunk, but there’s a part of him that exists in the back of his mind that can’t help but wonder exactly how long this can last.

Matt falls asleep almost right away, his breathing even and untroubled. But Foggy lays awake long into the night, worries plaguing his mind. Logically he knows that there are still threats out there that only someone like Matt can handle. And having a baby and a steady relationship might change his outlook for a few weeks, but what happens when Hell's Kitchen is on fire again and only someone with powers like his can put it out again? Could someone like him ever just walk away from a fight?

How long do they have until the other shoe drops, and what's going to happen to the two of them when it does?

 

 

\---

 

 

_**The teaser trailer for How to Become the Mayor of New Year City Part 2:** _

 

“Good morning, you two! Happy New Year!”

Anna is all bright smiles and cheer in the morning apparently, bustling into Matt’s apartment with the baby carrier and a travel tray with two coffees. Luckily Matt heard her coming from down the hall, and he and Foggy are both nominally presentable by the time she uses the spare key to let herself in.

“I brought you both coffee and some bagels from that new place down the street, my friends have all been raving about it!”

There’s something false about her cheeriness, though. Foggy isn’t sure if Matt can tell or not, but she’s over acting it, all the marks being hit just a bit too forcefully for it to be organic.

“Thank you, Anna,” Matt says. He’s wearing a gray shirt and sweatpants, and he gives her a kiss on the top of her head before peering down into the baby carrier to see Ella happily gurgling away. “She wasn’t too much trouble, was she?”

“Oh no, not at all, we had a great time. Didn’t we, Ella, darling?” Anna looks down at Ella as well, reaching inside to start unsnapping her. “Besides, you boys need some alone time to sort all of this out. I’m sure you made good use of the night off, didn’t you?”

He’s not quite sure if she’s making a lewd joke, and judging by the look Matt shoots him over the top of her head, he isn’t quite sure either. “We had a great time at the restaurant,” Foggy offers, laying the bagels out on the countertop and pulling some cream cheese out of the fridge.

“Oh look, I think she needs a change,” Anna says, “Foggy, darling, can you come with me into the bedroom for a second and help?”

Matt tries to take Ella, protesting that he can change her. But Anna artfully dodges him, winding her way quickly to the bedroom. It’s an obvious setup, but Foggy follows her anyway. He ignores Matt’s raised eyebrow and curious look along the way, wishing there was some way that he could tell Anna that Matt is still going to be able to hear every single word that she says even if they go into another room.

When they get to the bedroom, Anna is gesturing him into the bathroom. His stomach flips over as he wonders just what could be so sensitive that she wants to go not only into another room, but the anteroom. His fears are heightened when she shuts the door and starts running the water. She seems to have an odd sense about Matt's hearing, and Foggy wonders what else she's picked up about his strange behavior over the years.

“Mom, what’s going on?” he demands. “You’re scaring me.”

“It’s not a big deal, Franklin, don't get worked up,” Anna says, but the way she’s jiggling Ella belays her nervousness. “I just… there’s something I have to tell you.”

“So tell me, and then we can stop standing in the bathroom with the water running like we're the sticky bandits or something.”

She bites her lip, looking down at Ella before continuing: “So at the Christmas Party, you know, I took some pictures of Ella…”

“And?”

“And I put them on Facebook, honey. I mean, I just wanted some of our other relatives to be able to see her. She was so cute, and there was this one of you and Matt together with her. It was just so perfect…”

His pulse is pounding in his ears, wondering where all of this is going. “I know, I saw those pictures online. And Matt did too. What's wrong with them?”

“Well, someone saw them, someone unintended….. Your mother, uh... the other one.” Her face is pinched, and she trips over her own words. She quite clearly isn't comfortable talking about this topic, because it's one that they typically just avoid discussing.

He feels like he’s been punched in the gut, and he really hopes that maybe Matt can’t hear them over the water running. “Rosalind? She… did she call you?”

“She called your father last night. She wanted to know why she wasn’t… uh, informed I guess is the right word…”

The apprehension and fear churning in his gut is starting to feel strangely like it’s turning into anger. “What did she want, a written notice?”

Anna frowns at him, “Now, Franklin, she is your mother after all…”

“I haven’t talked to her in years! I didn’t even think of her when, when…” he’s spluttering, and yes, this is definitely anger that he’s feeling. His thoughts are a tornado of hurt:  _How dare she? How dare she want nothing to do with me with my entire adult life, and then expect to just show up and want updates about my love life? She's never earned the right...._

“Yes, I think that’s what’s she’s upset about.” Anna manages to cradle Ella in one arm while still reaching out to him with her other one, placing it on his arm and giving him an empathetic look. “You know, it could all turn out for the best! Maybe she’s regretting her decision. She might be looking back on her life right now, and wishing that she had played a larger role with you instead of focusing on her career. And it isn't like she doesn't have money and influence. I mean, this could really benefit you and the baby...”

Foggy snorts in disbelief. “Yeah, right.” He holds up a hand to stop Anna from saying anything else. “You know, you and dad always want to see the best in people, and that’s fine. But I don’t want anything to do with her, okay? Not after everything she’s done. And I certainly don’t want her hounding after Ella. She’s a baby, for the love of God, not a pawn in a power game! And she isn't even really my mother, you are! You raised me, and fed me, and.... and actually cared about me!”

He takes Ella from her arms, firmly shutting off the running water. “Look,” he goes on, “I don’t want to talk anymore about this, okay?” And with that, he walks out of the bathroom, leaving Anna staring after him with a perplexed frown on her face.

When he walks back out to the kitchen, Matt is sitting on one of the stools, his fingertips tracing the edges of a coffee cup. He has his head tilted to the side in that peculiar way he does when he’s listening to something far off, but it’s hard to tell how much he may have heard. Anna comes out of the bathroom a few moments later, making some awkward goodbyes before closing the apartment door behind her with a final sounding bang.

“Foggy?" Matt asks when the door is closed.

Foggy has turned his back to him though, strapping Ella into her little reclining seat and going through the motions of making her a bottle without really even considering if she’s hungry. Matt comes over to him where he’s pouring formula into the bottle, leaning against the countertop and putting a hand on his back. “Foggy?” he asks him again.

His hand is shaking, and the formula is going everywhere. But he can’t seem to stop himself, dropping the measuring cup and cursing, “Godamnit!”

“Foggy!”

Matt has him by the shoulders now, formula spattered on the counter and on his fingertips now transferring onto Matt’s shirt. He feels dizzy and distant, like he’s a million miles away. He can hear Matt calling his name, over and over again, but he can’t seem to make himself respond.

_Why would she be interested in me now, after all these years? Just because of Ella? Or is it because of Matt? And what am I going to do about it anyway, after I've lied all these years? The last time I saw her, it definitely didn't end well..._

 

 

 

 _..._ tbc


End file.
